Presenting Abby
by Yanagi-wa
Summary: Abby and Ducky have been invited to present. This does not turn out as expected.
1. Chapter 1

Presenting Abby

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betaed by Jake and Jordre

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I'm not going to over indulge in science. Forensic science is fascinating, if you're interested. Or boring as hell if you're not.

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characters: Abby, Jimmy, Tim, Ducky. Gibbs and SEALs on a mission.

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Abby sorted through her mail with a disgruntled expression on her pretty face. She hated snail mail, it was so untidy. All anyone had to do was send an email, if the recipient wanted a hard copy they could print it out. One envelope stood out, it was thick and heavy and its contents were stiff.

"Hum. Okay. Present?" Abby read the card again then went on to the letter. She was being invited to do a dual presentation with Ducky. They'd written a paper covering their discoveries in blood analysis and the American College of Forensic Examiners wanted them to present. "Sweet. I wonder if Ducky got an invitation of his own?"

Her phone rang just then. "Labby! Lab of Abby. How may I help you?"

"Abigail! Good day. Did you get your own invitation to present?"

"I did. Isn't it great?" Abby did a little happy dance.

"It is. But you will need an escort, and I'm taking Jimmy. I fear wrestling luggage is beyond my strength anymore."

Abby sighed. "I know. I'll take care of my stuff but we will need some help with other stuff. I think getting Tim to go as my escort and tec expert might be a good idea. Jimmy can handle your luggage and his. Might need him to help Tim with some stuff. What do you think?"

Ducky thought for a moment, then replied, "Excellent idea. I'll contact Director Vance and make the arrangements, shall I?"

"Please." Abby smiled at the click that indicated that Ducky had hung up. "You all copy Jet; rude."

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Leon Vance was not a happy director. Abby and Ducky were presenting and wanted Jimmy and Tim to accompany them. Gibbs and the SEALs were assigned somewhere. He was pissed that the Marines had threatened to reactivate Gibbs unless Vance signed off on the mission. He'd signed, but made his displeasure at the threat evident.

This left him without a Mortician, Mortician's Assistant, one Forensic Expert, one IT expert/agent, and the whole of the rest of his MCRT. Tony was commanding the SEAL mission. The SEAL contingent that had been working as TDAs to gain experience in investigations. He wasn't looking forward to the bitching and moaning from the other team leads, but NCIS needed the recognition they'd get from two presenters at the ACFE, not to mention the SEAL mission.

He instructed Cynthia to do the paperwork necessary to send Ducky, Abby, Tim, and Jimmy to Chicago, or a suburb thereof. He wasn't sure exactly where the convention center was; there were several in Chicago, most of them attached to a large hotel or complex. Cynthia would sort it all out.

What he was really worried about was his SEAL team, and yes, they were his. They were headed into God knew what top-secret op in the ass-crack of the Middle East. Okay, he worried. He hated the fact that they would be out of contact for the foreseeable future.

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Cynthia scowled at the schedule she'd downloaded. The convention started in four days. She wondered what TBI had decided that a four-day warning for a presentation was a good idea. She set about getting flights and hotel reservations for four.

While Cynthia was coping, Abby was grumbling, Tim was wondering how he'd gotten Shanghaied into this Charlie Foxtrot, and Jimmy was assuring Ducky that he was delighted to get to go.

Ducky promptly told him he was in charge of luggage for both of them; he, Ducky, would be responsible for keeping track of tickets, boarding passes, and so on. Jimmy just nodded, expecting exactly that.

Ducky looked up as Abby and Tim entered the Morgue with a whoosh of hydraulics. "Ducky! What's up?"

"Abigail, calm down. Sit there." Ducky pointed to a chair in his office. He was well aware that Abby didn't like the Morgue much and tried to accommodate her as much as possible.

Abby settled into the chair. "I'm calm. Really."

Ducky smirked genially at her. "I can see that. Tim, Jimmy, come in as well."

Tim and Jimmy entered the office; Jimmy sat in his favorite chair to one side of the desk. Tim leaned against the door frame to avoid crowding the small room.

Jimmy waited for Ducky to start, while Abby vibrated in place and Tim crossed his arms over his chest and stood on one foot, with the other crossed over at the ankle.

Ducky cleared his throat and explained everything to Tim and Jimmy, with Abby interjecting from time to time. He ended, "So, you see, dear boys, we do need your help. I don't think Abby and I can manage everything ourselves."

Tim nodded. "Jimmy's in charge of paper. I'm in charge of equipment, and we're all in charge of our own luggage." He shrugged. "Sounds doable. I won't need a suit; I'm not going to be on stage at any time. Unless something breaks down, and no one will expect the audio-visual guy to be in a suit. I'll bring ..."

Abby interrupted him, "No, Tim, you're my escort so I don't have to attend three banquets with some... fruitcake, WOMBAT, misogynistic waste of air and space hitting on me."

Tim winced, remembering her complaints about her escort to some banquet or other. She'd threatened to poison the next escort that turned out to be a nutjob.

"Okay. I'll pack my charcoal grey suit." Tim smiled at Abby as she nodded once in approval. "Other than that... office casual for actual presentations and MARPAT the rest of the time. I don't trust the laundry facilities to be safe for much else."

Jimmy shrugged. "Same for me. I've got that nice dark navy blue; if I take three different shirts, I'll be good to go."

Abby grumbled, "And HR called before I came down, so I'm taking my court suit and both blouses. But when I'm not schmoozing or presenting, I'll be my usual Goth Queen self."

Tim sighed, "I wonder how Gibbs and AJ are? Anyone know anything?"

Ducky shook his head. "No. And don't go poking about, either."

Tim shook his head. "Last time I tried that, AJ took me on the mats. Kicked my ass good. Not goin' there again."

Jimmy snickered, "That was a show."

Ducky frowned. "And when was this?"

"You remember when I sprained a finger?" Ducky nodded. "Then. And AJ felt really bad. He never intends to do real damage."

"I see. Well, I do hope you learned your lesson."

"I did." Tim stood up straight and stretched. "Well, I'm for home and packin'. Come on."

Abby nodded. "Me too. I want to make sure that I have enough things so I don't have to send anything to the hotel laundry."

They all went their separate ways, Ducky, Tim, and Jimmy to Mallard Manor and Abby to her apartment.

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Abby eyed her wardrobe with some disfavor. She was eclectic, goth, and happy, and tried to show it in her wardrobe. She was very unhappy right now. She'd sent some of her favorites out to the cleaner to be sure she had enough things to last. The dry cleaner had just called to tell her that their service had somehow managed to fade everything she'd sent.

"Well, shoot. Darn it. Now what?" Abby decided her best bet was to call Tony, then realized that Tony was now on his way to the outback of somewhere.

So she called Tim. "Timmy! You'll never believe it. The dry cleaner faded all my stuff. I've got actually nothing suitable to wear. I need you to come shopping with me."

Tim groaned. "Abby... no."

"Yes! Please. Timmy, you know I have no idea what to get for something like this and... since I have to get new clothes anyway, I ought to get something good to wear to presentations... and another court suit. Please?

"PleasePleasePlease?"

Tim groaned then grunted. It was obvious that someone, probably Jimmy, had punched him. A hissed, "Just go, damnit," came down the line.

"Okay, okay. I'll go. But I'm not spendin' all day at it, I've got to pack too, you know."

Abby nodded. "Okay, but ... do you have enough underwear? I know you, Timmy, and you do tend to let it go until you've only got... like three."

Tim sighed audibly. "Abby... but..." Abby heard cloth rustling. "I really, really hate you right about now. I've got two pair of tighty-whities and one boxer. I'll be there in half an hour or so. Soon as I take inventory."

Abby, not a bit insulted by Tim telling her he hated her, started an inventory of her own.

She just finished when the doorbell rang.

"Timmy! I'm just finished." She brandished a small note book in the air with a triumphant expression on her face. "Let's go."

Tim snorted a laugh, turned and followed Abby to the door. "Oh! What car are you driving?" She made a face. "Not that monster Humvee, please."

"No. I told you I finally decided to sell the Boxter and get something a bit more practical... not time for the obligatory change-of-life convertible just yet." He pointed to a Chevy Colorado. "The green truck."

Abby eyed the truck. "Very nice. Crew Cab, 3.6L V6 DI DOHC VVT engine, four wheel drive, Forest Green metallic paint. Nothing fancy..." She smiled happily. "But it'll get you where you want to go with a bit of style. I like it that you didn't junk it up with a lot of vanity flash."

Tim shrugged, "The people I want to impress will be impressed with the motor, drive train and interior. Anyone who's impressed with fuckin' spinners, matte-black carbon fiber roll bars ... which are actually fairly damn useless ... and all that shit? Well, don't need to know them. Come on."

Abby got into the truck, remarking, "Nice interior."

"Thanks." Tim started the engine and put the truck in gear. "Okay, where are we going?"

Abby fiddled with the GPS then said, "There." She tapped the screen with one finger and the display zoomed in a bit.

"Okay. Got it." Tim headed out.

On the way they visited about this and that, speculated as to where the SEALs had gone, and made a few plans for Chicago.

It wasn't long before Tim was parking in front of the shop Abby had gotten her court suit from.

"I just hope they can come up with something in... four days?"

Tim thought for a moment then offered, "If they do it like the English tailors do, they've made a pattern to your measure. That way they can cut and sew the first fitting in a day. Then you'll have your first fitting and they'll make corrections. If that's good, they'll hem and you'll have your suit in a week? If you pay extra, they might get it done on time."

Abby let Tim open the door for her. "Thanks. Just have a seat on the couch, I'll ring for service." She went to the counter and pressed a door bell button mounted there.

A voice from the back called, "One moment, please."

Tim settled on the sofa. It was covered with soft micro-suede in a soft brownish-green. "Mmm. Nice."

Abby smirked at him. "Yeah? You should have seen the horror that AJ got stuck with."

"Yes. Awful. How may I help you today?" It wasn't Miss Pince. This lady was older, a bit more friendly but was obviously as competent.

So Abby explained her problem ending, "So I'd really appreciate it if you could help me out. I really need another suit... and something to wear to a cocktail party that I really don't want to be at. Something... fancy but not fussy or girly."

"Yes, I see. I'll bring out a sample book, shall I?"

"Great. And what is your name, please? I hate talking to someone whose name I don't know."

"My name is Mrs. Steel. I'll be back in just a moment."

Abby eyed Tim for a moment then said, "AJ had to sit on one of those hard, slick company sofas. Be glad they changed them."

Tim nodded. "I know exactly what you're talking about. Mom dragged me around with her a couple of times. Sara was amused; I wasn't." He settled more comfortably.

Mrs. Steel came back with her book and put it on the podium. "There. Miss Sciuto, I understand we have you to thank for the new furniture."

"Me? Probably more like AJ. Tell all while I look at the book."

"Very well." Mrs. Steel managed a genteel smirk. "Miss Pince told Mr. Clark, the owner, that she'd had several customers complain about the furniture ... we'd all been fussing about it for months. So he came in, at her suggestion, and sat on the sofa. For all of fifteen minutes. Two days later, this arrived. Thank goodness. You know how distracting all that sighing and squirming can be."

Abby dimpled at the woman and nodded, "Oh, yeah, very distracting." She tapped a page with one finger. "I like this."

Mrs. Steel looked at the pattern for a moment. It was a simple sheath, slightly longer than knee length, but not mid-calf. The neck line was high in the back and had a modest low cowl front. It was tied at the waist with a sash.

Abby frowned. "Don't like the sash thing... I think I'd rather use something of my own. I've got a really nice gold leather waist cincher with some fancy stitching. Sorta paisley, only not. If you show me some fabric samples I could match it."

Mrs. Steel frowned at the picture for a moment then offered, 'It's a bit out of style but, if we lowered the back to mid... just below your shoulder blades..." She trailed off as both Abby and Tim shook their heads. "Um... it's still very modest."

Abby giggled. "Tats. Wouldn't do to freak out the stuffed shirts."

Tim began humming Waltzing Matilda. Abby stuck her tongue out at him. "I am not freaking the mundanes, thankyouverymuch."

Tim snickered and settled back, only commenting, "Mrs. Steel, Abby has a very good memory for colors, smells... and a bunch of other stuff. If she says she can match from memory, just go with it."

"As you wish. You'll need a drape-y fabric, so ..." She started flipping through a swatch book. "Mmmm, this one? Or this." She showed them to Abby. "They're all white but once we decide on the fabric I'll know which book to show you. I do hope you don't want a special order... that'll take three weeks or more so, if time is of the essence, you'll have to choose something in-house."

Tim pulled his phone out of a pocket, consulted it then said, "As of now, we have seventy-six hours to take-off."

Mrs. Steel frowned for a moment. "The dress will take two days, the suit less as we only need the final fitting. We can just squeak by."

"Oh, goody. So. I look better in jewel tones than pastels, never mind that I hate most of them. Lavender is nice. So is Emerald Green, Sapphire Blue, that sort of color. Nothing yellow; makes me look like I'm in the last stages of liver failure." As she talked Abby flipped through the swatch book. "Oh, I like this. Is it drape-y enough?"

"Yes, that's a very nice fabric. A bit old-fashioned as it's rayon, but it drapes very nicely and it's easy to clean. Hand wash, cold; line dry."

"Great and..." Abby accepted the color swatch book and flipped through it. "This color? Maybe?"

Mrs. Steel eyed the swatch for a moment. "Let me see if I have it in the back." She hurried off to look.

"Tim? What do you think?" Abby turned to Tim for his opinion, only he was fast asleep with one leg thrown over the arm of the sofa, the other braced under the coffee table. Abby threw up her hands. "What is it with you guys?!"

Mrs. Steel returned with her bolt of cloth and shook her head at the sight. "You wouldn't believe how many men fall asleep. Here... let's see if it suits."

Abby obediently stood in front of a mirror while Mrs. Steel fussed with a length of fabric. "There... what do you think?"

Abby turned one way then another, making the fabric shimmer. "I'll take it. It's just a bit darker than the stitching on my cincher."

Mrs. Steel carefully wrapped the Deep Sapphire cloth back onto its bolt then produced a tape. "I need a couple more measurements... hem length and all that." She took her measurements then wrote up the order.

Abby produced a credit card and paid her bill. "There we go." She went over and kicked Tim's feet. "Tim! Wakey-wakey."

Tim grunted and sat up. "Done?"

"Yes. Come on, we still have to shop for you."

Tim snorted. "Ten minutes, fifteen if Wal-Mart is crowded."

Abby sighed. "It'll take you an hour or I miss my guess."

"Bet?"

"Five."

The nearest store happened to be a Target a half mile away.

It didn't take long for Tim to get parked.

"Okay, stick with me. Don't wander off because I don't want to have to chase you down. Come on." Tim got a carry basket and headed into the store. Abby trotted after him looking puzzled.

"Don't you need a buggy?"

"What for? I'm gettin' one package of socks, one of briefs, and a package of boxers. Might get some t-shirts while I'm at it."

Tim led the way to the men's section and, true to his word, got exactly what he'd said he would. As he headed for the checkout Abby handed him a five dollar bill. "Jerk."

Tim wisely kept his mouth shut.

After he'd paid and accepted his bag, Abby said, "And I still need to find some more things. I seriously have no clothes. Oh! And I need to stop by the dry-cleaners and pick up that check they promised me."

It took them a half an hour to make the drive and Tim was hot under the collar by the time they arrived at the cleaners.

Abby hopped out announcing, "I'll only be a couple of minutes. Relax."

Tim grumbled, "You relax. I'm gonna have ta drive in that mess again. What the fuckin' hell was that anyway?"

Abby shrugged. "Someone texting when they were driving. Wreck backed up traffic. What?"

Tim just glowered at her. "Not what I meant and you know it. I'm practically married to my phone, but I don't text or talk while I'm driving. It's stupid."

"It is. It's also against the law, but people always think it won't happen to them. So. I'll get my check and then you can take me to Dilly's; it's in the opposite direction and only about six blocks." Abby trotted off to collect her check.

The cleaner was very apologetic, offered to have things re-dyed, and handed over a check.

Abby agreed that some of her things could be over-dyed but told the man that she'd have to make arrangements later as she was going out of town. He said to just call and they'd figure something out. He apologized again and Abby got away before he could initiate a long conversation. She wanted to get home so she could wash her new purchases before wearing them.

Abby hopped up into the truck seat, waving her check at Tim. "They paid for most of my stuff but the owner wants to try to over-dye some of it. Mostly the cotton stuff. Wool is all ruined. So... more shopping. But you can drop me at Dilly's and Jeff will drive me home. Okay?"

Tim, just happy that he wasn't going to spend the rest of the day following Abby around, agreed. "Sure. But... just thought of this. Where's your rod?"

"In the shop, I hit a chug hole and busted the suspension. It'll be done by the time I get back. And that reminds me, I need to call the shop. You don't mind?"

"No. Make your call. Just put the address to Dilly's into the GPS first. And call me if Jeff can't drive you." He didn't turn his head as he was backing out but his tone of voice said it all. "Abby, I mean it. If Jeff can't drive you, call one of us. None of this Uber shit. DC is not a good place for that right now."

Abby punched in the address of Dilly's then called the shop to check on her car.

Abby asked for the mechanic that was working on her car and was obviously displeased to be told that he'd broken his hand so someone else was working on it.

"Okay. Just remember, I'll drive it before I approve the repairs. And, if he treats me like a... helpless female, I'll maim him. Now, I'm gonna be out of town for about a week. I'm giving a presentation to a forensic group in Chicago." She listened for a minute then said, "Okay. Bye." She tucked her phone away then said, "If they treat me like a featherhead, I'm gonna hurt someone. My usual guy is really good and treats me with respect. I'm not sure about the guy they have working on my rod. In fact, I'm not too sure about the new shop boss either. Oh, well, if all else fails, I'll sent Jet."

Tim frowned. "Doesn't sound good. Want me to run backgrounds on all of them?"

"Like I didn't already do that. But a background check won't show if they're jerks or not."

"Too true." Tim jerked the wheel just in time to avoid taking the bumper off a 1987 Dodge Aries. "Christ on a cracker." He yelled, "You jackass. Rear-view mirrors!"

Abby shook her head. "You'd think that someone driving a car like that would... I don't know... be more careful."

"Jerk is probably such a fuckin' bad driver that that's all the car he can afford. And I'll bet you anything he's got no fuckin' insurance either."

Abby nodded her agreement then pointed. "Dilly's."

"Got it."

Just then the GPS pinging and announced, "Turn right next exit."

Tim turned and followed the GPS's directions to the back parking lot. He just pulled up to the back entrance and let Abby out. "You call if you need me."

"I will. Bye."

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Cynthia glowered at her monitor and said a few very unladylike things. She decided to turn this over to Vance. "Director Vance? I need your opinion. I've booked Dr. Mallard's party on Delta, reservations confirmed and everything. I decided to check back then print out the boarding passes and tickets here to save time at the airport. They are telling me that I didn't make a reservation and there's no seats available within the time frame needed. What should I do?"

Leon Vance was usually a patient man, no matter what anyone said, but he'd had a hell of a week. "I don't know. Why don't you let McGee deal? He's good at this sort of thing. This week has been hell on wheels. I'm just done."

"I know. Me too. So, I'll email Agent McGee and let him know. I hope there's time for them to make some arrangements."

Tim's phone pinged so he opened the email. "Well, son of a bitch and all her pups. Damnit." He shrugged. He was in the office alone finishing up some of the interminable paperwork; the stuff seemed to breed. Abby swore it was related to Tribbles somehow.

It didn't take him long to get down to Abby's lab.

Abby's music of the day was something loud. Tim wasn't sure who it was, but the singer just screamed something unintelligible over and over. He turned it off.

"Hey! Oh, Tim, what's up?"

"Delta fucked us. They say they didn't get our reservations. It's too late to make new ones with them. So... what do you want to do?"

Abby checked something then said, "Why don't you call Ducky and Jimmy, get them here, and we'll all figure it out."

Tim did as she suggested and Jimmy answered the Morgue phone. Tim explained the problem and asked if they could come to Abby's Lab to talk it over.

Ducky smiled at Abby when he came in the door. Jimmy just looked annoyed.

"Well, Tim, I understand our travel arrangements fell through?"

"They did. Delta..."

Ducky held up a hand. "Say no more, my boy. That... bunch of lugnuts could screw up a two-car funeral, as Jet says. So. We have approximately thirty-six hours to figure out something. And that includes flying time."

Abby shrugged, "I'm sure you have some contacts that could help us get where we're going. Call someone."

Ducky shook his head, "My dear Abigail, all my contacts would provide would be seats on a C-130."

"That's fine. I'm not some delicate flower that can't stand a bit of turbulence and discomfort."

Ducky eyed her for a moment then said, "Very well. Let me get back to my office and see what I can do."

Jimmy nodded. "Okay, can I stay here for a bit? I've done all the cleaning and such, I just need a bit of a break."

"That's fine." Ducky got up and ambled out, mumbling to himself.

Tim got up from the rolling chair that he'd gotten from Abby's office. "I better get back to my desk. I swear, paper work is never ending." He left, followed by a burst of 'music'. "Damn. What she sees in that crap... never understand. Seriously fucked up."

It took an hour, but Ducky saved the day. He'd managed to get tickets on a C-130 headed in the right direction and had been assured that, due to the cargo, they wouldn't be diverted. He sent an email to everyone, then went to print out their documentation. The only problem was, they were going to be twelve hours earlier than expected. He sighed and called Jimmy.

"Jimmy, come here a moment, would you please?"

"Sure, what's up?"

"The sky." Ducky smirked at Jimmy then got serious. "I need you to call our hotel and see if we can move our reservations up a day."

"I thought of that. I'm waiting for a call back right now." Jimmy grinned, he knew Ducky hated dealing with hotel booking agents.

"Excellent. Well done."

Jimmy grumbled a bit then suggested, "How about we have tea while we wait?"

"Wonderful idea. I'll put the kettle on. Will you prep?"

"Sure." Jimmy went to get the tea pot, tray, sugar and cups. He smiled a bit at the little sugar spoons. He remembered finding them in an antique shop. Ducky had been delighted when they realized that they matched his second best silverware.

They were relaxing when the phone rang. Ducky answered, "Dr. Mallard. How may I help you?" There was an indistinct mumble from the receiver but Ducky replied, "Excellent. Thank you so much." He went to the printer and punched a couple of buttons. The printer promptly spat out an inch thick stack of paper.

Ducky fumbled with it for a moment then said in an irritated tone, "Jimmy, blasted things are all stuck together."

Jimmy just took the stack and said, "I've been telling maintenance for weeks that the thing uses too much ink. They should come out of the printer almost dry but they're so wet they stick together. I think we should spread them out for a bit so they dry." He proceeded to do exactly that, spreading the sheets across one of the tables, sorting as he went.

"There. When that's all dry I'll fold them into envelopes so I can keep everyone organized. We're due to take off at 0640 in the morning. I should get home and pack. I've got it all put out but I was waiting to see whether we were going commercial or military. Would you like me to pack for you?"

Ducky smiled at Jimmy, not at all offended that he offered to pack for him. "No, I'd rather do it myself. That way I know where everything is. Do you think my wheelie will cause trouble?"

"You know it won't. I'll deal. It's not like our luggage together will weigh as much as my ruck. In fact, I might just pack in my ruck then put your wheelie in it. Or maybe put it on the bottom and my bags on top of it."

Ducky blinked, "Your bags?"

"I've taken to packing my clothing and stuff in stack bags. Makes it easier to find things. They're different colors so... jeans in one, underwear in another and so on. And the black one is dirty stuff."

"Well, aren't you the clever one?" Ducky nodded to himself. "I'll just pack my things in my old duffel and you can organize your ruck to suit." He glanced at the clock. "I believe it's late enough that we can call it a day."

Jimmy agreed. "Sounds good to me. Let me send an email to Abby and Tim so they know what's going on."

Jimmy now drove Ducky to and from work. He admitted that his eyes weren't what they were even a couple of years ago, so he refused to drive except in full daylight. As they usually left for work at gray dawn and weren't home much before dusk, Jimmy drove to and from work.

They visited about not much of anything important on the way to the garage.

.

Abby glowered at her email then grumbled, "Six Forty? Fuck. I'll have to scramble to finish packing. And a C-130? I'm so glad I have my ruck." She made a few quick notes so she wouldn't forget anything, stuffed them into her purse and headed for home. She had wash to do.

While Abby was fussing, Tim just sighed. He didn't mind military transport. It was loud, but ear plugs fixed that. It could be crowded, but this time, it seemed they were to be four out of thirty or so. He did like the leg room and the fact that he could keep his luggage with him. He had requisitioned the projector and laptop he needed for the presentation when he found out he was going, it was set and ready to go in a hard-shell case, and he had a back-up on a USB drive and another in the cloud.

Tim left to deal with his own packing and call Jimmy to make sure he knew what was going on and set his alarm.

.

Tim woke to the jingle of his alarm. He had a digital alarm and had tinkered with it until it sounded like an old-fashioned double bell top. After a quick scratch, Tim headed for the bathroom, yawning.

He showered quickly, dressed in BDU's, and checked for his phone, tablet, and pocket junk.

Before he went downstairs, he knocked on Jimmy and Ducky's doors. Satisfied with Jimmy's "I'm up! I'm up!" and Ducky's "Nearly ready," he went down to start coffee. They were going to get sausage biscuits from a drive-through on their way to pick up Abby.

Tim was going to call Abby to make sure she was awake, but she called him instead. He put her on speaker so he could make coffee and talk at the same time.

"Tim. I'm all packed and waiting. The tailor actually got everything done for me. You need to be here in half an hour so we can board on time."

"I'm just making coffee. We're going to drive through Nancy's on the way and get sausage biscuits. Want one?" Tim measured coffee and set up the pot while he was talking.

Abby dropped her phone, picked it up and answered, "Yeah. Sounds good."

Tim started the pot, then said, "Abby, if you drop that phone one more time the screen will crack."

Abby just gave him a raspberry and hung up.

Ducky came in just then and demanded tea. Tim started the kettle, remarking, "We just have time if you put it in a carry cup."

"Fine, fine. I believe we were going to get sausage biscuits?"

"We are."

Jimmy wandered in, grumbling, with his ruck over his shoulder. "I'm ready."

He glanced at Ducky then demanded, "Are you sure you packed enough?"

Ducky nodded. "I am, dear boy. I have enough underthings for two weeks. Shirts for a week. I brought two casual trousers and a vest. And my suits can be dry-cleaned overnight. I packed one and I'm wearing the other. What more do I need?"

Jimmy frowned for a moment then said, "I don't know. Just seems awful light somehow."

Tim shrugged, "He doesn't wear jeans. They're heavy. Those trousers he wears are all light."

Ducky frowned, "I've suddenly realized that I have no idea what vehicle we're taking."

Jimmy shrugged. "Vance is sending an SUV and driver. Should be here any minute."

Just then the driver pulled up in front, Ducky turned to lock the door and set the alarm. They didn't have to worry too much about the house; NCIS would send an agent to check it every day.

Agent Hammel got out of the SUV and opened the back hatch. "Tim. Jimmy. Dr Mallard. Morning."

Jimmy tossed him his ruck and got into the back seat. Ducky got into the front beside the driver. Tim handed over his ruck and the hard-shell case with their electronics.

Agent Hammel looked at the luggage then asked, "You sure you're not forgetting something? Dr Mallard's stuff?"

Jimmy called back, "No. I'm carrying his stuff in my ruck so he doesn't have to deal."

Agent Hammel slammed the hatch, got into the driver's seat and said, "Okay then. Dr Sciuto next?"

Tim answered, "No. We want to get breakfast biscuits first. Drive through... Nancy's?"

Ducky and Jimmy agreed that Nancy's was good, so Agent Hammel headed that way. It wasn't that much out of the way and Tim called in their order on the way.

Jimmy hopped out and trotted inside to get their order. He checked the bag, just counting the sandwiches, then brought it out. He passed out the food, handing everyone their order. He also handed a sausage-and-egg biscuit to the driver saying, "I hope you're hungry."

"Thanks, man. I got up so early I only had time for a MickyD coffee." He happily unwrapped the sandwich and took a bite. "Mmm. Really good."

It took about ten minutes to get to Abby's place; she was actually dressed in BDU's and waiting at the curb for them. She didn't wait for Agent Hammel to get out, instead she called, "Just open the hatch. I can manage."

Agent Hammel pushed the button to open the hatch then watched as Abby wrangled her ruck into the back. He shook his head but allowed, "Woman is something else."

Jimmy agreed. "That she is." He got out to let Abby have his seat but she just hopped into the rear seat and settled in.

She dimpled at Agent Hammel in the rear view and said, "Thanks. And… just so you know… I'm one of three people in the world who could actually murder you, get rid of the body, and leave no forensic evidence behind. Seriously."

Agent Hammel grinned back and said, "Remind me never to piss you off. Settled?" Every one sounded off, so he put it in gear and eased into traffic.

Abby groaned. "Food? Please?" Jimmy passed the last two sandwiches back with a chuckle. "Mmm. Food. Yum." Abby dug out a biscuit, unwrapped it and took a huge bite.

It didn't take her long to devour her food; she was really happy to see that Jimmy had gotten her an orange juice box to wash the biscuits down with. "Thanks for the juice, Jimmy. Everyone hand back your trash and I'll put it all in the bag so Agent Hammel doesn't have to clean up after us."

They all obeyed; Ducky collected Hammel's trash and balled it up with his, then he just tossed it over his shoulder.

Tim caught it, exclaiming, "Hey! Easy, Ducky." He then tossed it to Abby and caught her in the chest.

"Easy yourself, jerk." But she laughed as she stuffed the ball into the bag. "There. All done. Are we nearly there?"

Hammel nodded. "Yeah, just about. I looked at the work order, but they didn't note a terminal. Where to?"

Tim frowned at the travel order. "Um… it doesn't have a name, just a T number. T-134."

Hammel made a quick right turn. "Okay. You are aware that that's a military transport terminal, right?"

"Yeah. We're takin' a C-130 to Chicago. We couldn't make connections to be on time any other way. So… Not that big a deal."

Abby nodded, pigtails bobbing. "Really not. Last time we took a commercial flight… it crashed."

Jimmy took exception to that. "You've flown several times since then."

"All either private or provided by the venue or SecNav. Not the same at all."

Tim laughed. "Only you, Abby. Only you."

Abby intelligently gave him the finger then turned to look out the window.

It wasn't long before they were at the hangar that was considered a terminal by the military. It was huge enough to earn the name cavernous and nearly empty. There were about thirty people gathered at the opposite end near the huge open doors.

Hammond parked and opened the hatchback. He started to get out to handle the luggage, but Ducky patted his shoulder, saying, "Don't bother. We'll have to wrangle our baggage ourselves, so we might as well start as we mean to finish. Thank you for a safe and comfortable ride."

Hammond nodded to Ducky, "You're welcome and thanks for breakfast."

"Don't mention it. Good-bye."

Hammond checked to make sure everyone had their stuff then called, "Someone shut the hatch, please." Tim slammed it shut for him then banged on the roof; he nodded once and drove off.

Tim shouldered his ruck and started for the group. Jimmy followed with papers in hand, with Abby and Ducky on his heels. Ducky offered to carry Abby's ruck, but she just giggled and said, "Oh, Duckman, you're such a gentleman, but no, I've got it."

"As you wish, then." Ducky smiled gently.

Abby was actually first up, as her papers were on the top of the pile. She handed over her ruck to be weighed.

"Ma'am." The Loadmaster took her ruck and hung it off the hook. "You sure you can manage this? It's sixty pounds."

Abby nodded. "I'm sure. It's fine, but thank you for asking."

Tim handed his over next. "I also have a hard-shell case, but it's cargo, not personal luggage. NCIS registered equipment."

The Loadmaster nodded, checked papers, and hung Tim's ruck. "Um… seventy-five pounds."

Tim accepted his ruck. "Not that heavy. I've done ruck runs with full battle gear and a ninety-pound ruck. Thought I was gonna die by the end of it. Badger is a madman."

"Badger? Ltcmdr Anthony DiNozzo?" Tim nodded. "Heard of him. He as scary as they say?"

"Worse, but he won't ask his men to do anything he won't do. It's all good." Tim accepted his ruck with a smile and got out of Jimmy's way.

Jimmy handed over his ruck after taking Ducky's duffle out. The Loadmaster gave him a stinkeye, so Jimmy said, "I'm carrying Ducky's stuff too. We don't want him wrangling a duffel on a C-130."

"I see. Okay." He weight Jimmy's pack. "Fuck me! This monster weights ninety pounds."

Jimmy flushed a bit. "I forgot to clean it out; it still has a full medic kit in it."

Ducky's duffle weighed in at forty pounds but the Loadmaster was no dummy and said, "That puts your combined ruck at a hundred and thirty pounds."

Jimmy just shrugged. "Not a problem. I did the same run Tim did."

"You're all crazy. Seriously fuckin' crazy. 'Scuse my French, Ma'am."

Abby snickered. "You should hear me when one of my babies gives me hinky results."

Loadmaster Jenks looked at her for a second. "Babies? Ma'am?"

Ducky smiled at Jenks. "She's a scientist. Her 'babies' are her lab equipment."

Jenks nodded his understanding. "I see, sir. I'll need to weigh that case, too."

Tim handed the case over. "Be careful with that. It's got electronic equipment in it."

"Okay. So… I guess I'm not supposed to drop kick it into the cargo bay?" Jenks grinned to show he was joking.

Tim smirked at him. "Only if you want AJ to take you on the mats."

Jenks winced. "Heard about that. You ever?"

"Yeah. I fucked up an entry … nearly got myself shot. He does tend to get a bit pissy about that sort of thing."

"I bet. I'd be pissed too. Well, you're all weighed and under allowance. You can board now." He handed all the papers back to Jimmy who put them in a thigh pocket and buttoned it.

"We ready?" Jimmy shouldered his repacked ruck and looked around. Everyone replied in the affirmative, so they headed for the plane.

They were met by another Loadmaster, who was responsible for cargo distribution and seating. This made sure that the payload was balanced and the passengers were safe.

Jimmy tossed his ruck through the door, then took Abby's and did the same with it. He sat on the door sill and turned on his butt to get his feet in, then stood up. He gave Abby a hand up, then Ducky. Tim tossed him his ruck, then got in. They got out of the doorway as quickly as they could, just so they didn't piss off the Loadmaster or crew.

Abby bounced a bit, she was so excited. She looked around, but didn't really see a place to sit. "Where are we gonna sit?"

Tim pointed. "How about there? It's a bit away from everyone else, and we can fort up a bit."

Jimmy grinned. "If we move one box and add my ruck, we'll be nearly hidden."

Ducky glanced around. "This reminds me of the time…"

He was interrupted, very kindly, by one of the crew, "I'm so sorry to interrupt you, but we have seating for your group up front. Since there's only thirty of you and cargo is palletized, we have onboard side seats for everyone. This way please." He started off but turned to say, "Oh, and your luggage can stay with you as long as it stays out of the way. Except for the clam-shell; we've already secured that."

Ducky made a face but followed the crewman with Jimmy, Tim, and Abby right behind him. He privately though they looked like a drake and a gaggle of ducklings.

Abby was just as excited about this as she was about most experiences. Flying in a C-130 wasn't new to her, but she did love doing things that AJ and Gibbs had done.

As she settled into the seat she pelted the poor crewman with questions.

"How do you attach the seats? I don't see how. Where do the seats come from? We flew in a C-130 before and it didn't have any seats. Why not? Is there coffee? I'd rather have a Caf-Pow but drinks in soft cups aren't allowed only why you call that white plastic thing soft I'll never know. When are we taking off? I hope it's soon. Is there a ladies' room? Or not. Is there any kind of toilet?"

Tim took pity on the crewman, waving him away and answering Abby. "The seats are screwed into sockets. The same sockets that accept the cargo tie-downs. The seats are stored somewhere and sent to location on request. The C-130 we flew in was over seat capacity or they just didn't provide. No coffee. Those white cups will collapse if you squeeze them, so they're considered soft." He glanced at his watch. "Take off in ten. No ladies' room. No C-130 has a toilet. You brought some of those Biffy Bags, right?"

Abby patted her ruck and nodded. "I did." She blinked then exclaimed, "Oh! Do we have seat numbers?"

Tim answered that. "First come, first served." He sat next to her on her right, Ducky took the seat on her left, and Jimmy sat on his other side.

The Captain came aboard just then and yelled as he walked to the front. "Sit the fuck down. Take off in ten. If you're not buckled in, don't piss and whine when you get fucked up." He then entered the cockpit, followed by the rest of the cockpit crew.

Everyone settled in their seats, secured their stuff, and snapped seat belts. Ducky popped a piece of gum into his mouth, then offered the pack around.

Tim refused. "Got some already."

Jimmy accepted with thanks, as did Abby. She passed the pack to the man next to her after glancing at Ducky, who nodded. The pack made its way down the row until the last man realized that he'd taken the last piece.

"Hey! Man. Really sorry about that. We'll get you a new pack at the next port."

Ducky waved a hand. "No bother. Don't worry about it. I knew that would happen. That's why I bought the large pack."

There was a chorus of thank-you's from the whole row.

Then it was take-off. The pilot announced takeoff, then began to taxi. They sat in holding pattern for an amazingly short fifteen minutes, then took off with a roar of jets which pushed everyone into their seats.

Abby promptly leaned against Ducky and went to sleep.

Tim stuck his feet into the aisle and did the same while Ducky leaned back against Abby. Jimmy copied Tim and they were all soon sound asleep.

As the flight would only last about an hour and a half, they didn't expect to get much sleep, but it had been an early morning and a bit of a scramble to get there, so they napped.

They actually managed to sleep all the way, much like the rest of the passengers. Abby said later that the lack of screaming kids, running up and down the plane, made a real difference.

Ducky woke first when one of the crew started to shake him awake.

His reaction was not what the young man expected at all. Ducky grabbed his hand and the pain made him fall to his knees.

"What?" Ducky let the crewman go, sitting up with a start. "Oh."

"I'm sorry, sir." The crewman was now on his knees at Ducky's feet, hand cramped over. "Please, sir?"

Ducky let go. "Oh, dear. I'm very sorry, young man. Let me take a look at that."

The crewman let Ducky check his hand and wrist. "So sorry. I do believe you are going to have a rather nasty bruise. I do apologize."

The crewman rubbed his hand. "That's okay, sir. I was warned about shaking people awake. I just… Um…"

Jimmy patted the kid on the shoulder. "Never assume. Ducky's RED, and what he did is called a thumb-tap. Put some arnica jell on that bruise."

The crewman got up and hurried away, rubbing his hand. Ducky watched him for a moment, then said, "I am truly sorry, but shaking me is a very bad idea."

Tim nodded. "Shaking any of us is not a good idea. But… he's not hurt and maybe he learned a lesson that will keep him from getting really hurt later. We better get set for landing."

They got ready for landing, bracing themselves with their heels on a T-beam. The plane bounced once then rumbled down the landing strip, brakes screeching, tires smoking.

Once they were cleared to taxi, it wasn't long before they were in front of another hangar. They were so similar that, if you didn't know better, you'd have thought they never left DC.

Abby, Jimmy, Tim, and Ducky had decided to wait until everyone else was off the plane to deplane themselves. They had the clamshell to find, and they didn't want the crew overloaded.

They didn't have long to wait; all the other passengers were military and deplaned in good order.

They all got off and clustered around the door while the crew found their case. The same crewman that had awakened Ducky came to the door with it.

"Here you are, sir. And… um… no hard feelings about waking you up like that?"

He looked hopeful so Ducky took pity on him. "Of course not, young man. How is your hand?"

He showed his hand to Ducky. "No problem. One of the guys had some ice left in his drink so he gave it to me. I'm fine. Lesson learned with a minimum of pain. We can both call it good." He saluted, then scurried off when someone shouted at him to "move your ass, dude."

Jimmy frowned at his phone. "Well, the car we arranged for wouldn't change their time, so I cancelled it. We'll have to hump our shit to the concourse and find something."

They lucked out as the short bus that had been sent to take the excess from the school bus sized vehicle had seats for them. The driver pulled up beside them and called, "Don't give a damn if you're civvies or what, I'm not leavin' y'all to hump that shit all the way in."

Jimmy grinned at him. "Thanks, man." He tossed his ruck to a waiting corporal then added Tim's stuff. Abby's ruck was next and she followed it, quickly getting out of the way. Ducky got on board while Abby was getting seated. They realized that someone was going to have to stand. Ducky offered and was soundly refused. Jimmy said, "Oh, no, Ducky, not a chance. AJ'd have us all on the mats in a second. Except for Abby."

Abby added, "No mats for me, but he'd give me that disappointed look of his. No, thankyouverymuch."

Tim and Jimmy rock-paper-scissored for standee, which Jimmy lost. So he stood on the drive to the terminal, which was against regs but the driver cheerfully announced, "Man, civilians, what can ya do?" and eased up to speed gently.

When they reached the huge building Jimmy pointed. "Rent-a-Center."

They gathered their stuff, thanked the driver, got his name, then headed for the rental agency.

The agent was very helpful, found them exactly what they needed, gave them maps and some directions, then actually programmed the GPS for them. She cheerfully ran Tim's company card then waved to them as Tim drove off.

Abby had happily taken the back seat, Ducky always got shotgun, and Jimmy was sprawled across the middle seat. Abby babbled away about everything they saw, cursed a couple of idiot drivers, but allowed that Chicago traffic had nothing on DC. Jimmy dozed.

It took them nearly an hour to reach the convention center, which was actually located in a suburb of Chicago. Naperville was clean, neat, and actually a city in its own right. It was not a bedroom town for Chicago although many residents worked in the city.

The hotel they had booked was a new Marriott and was only a stone's throw from the convention center. It was actually so new that it didn't show on Google Maps yet, something that annoyed Abby no end as she couldn't find any restaurants nearby.

Tim parked and tossed the keys to the valet. "Take it easy on that. It's a rental." Tim grinned at the boy. "My boss will be pissed if something happens to it."

The valet grinned back. "I'll treat it like it's my own."

Ducky snorted then said, "Best you treat it like it is your mother's."

The valet laughed good naturedly then said, "The key will be at the desk. If you want it, just ask for it. However, I'd really advise using Uber or taxies as much as possible. Traffic is going to be hell. Convention."

Jimmy slipped the boy a ten then shouldered his ruck. "We're part of that madness so we'll walk as much as we can. I hate driving in a strange city, but Tim seems to be doing okay." He trotted after the group, catching up just in time to collect his key card.

They'd lucked out as Cynthia had pulled a couple of strings to get them reservations at such a late date. Jimmy and Tim would share a double king suit, Ducky had a similar room down the hall two doors, and Abby had a nice single across the hall from Ducky.

Jimmy gave Ducky his duffle, offering to take it to the room for him but Ducky said he wasn't quite that decrepit yet. Abby winked at Jimmy and trotted after Ducky.

Tim had their door open by the time Jimmy got done with Ducky so he just ambled in, dumping his ruck by the door for the moment.

He flopped into a chair then groaned, "Man, nice. I'm not gonna wanna get up if I sit here too long."

Tim shrugged. "So, stay seated."

"Can't. I gotta get that ruck under control. Or get something else to carry."

Tim brandished a messenger bag. "Ought to get one of these. You can carry a lot of stuff in it. And, for now, all you really need is a small medic kit, your laptop, a couple of note books, and pen and pencil."

Jimmy grinned, "Go you one better." He brandished an object in Tim's general direction. "Multi-pen. I've got black, blue, red, and green ink and a mechanical pencil."

Tim snatched it out of Jimmy's hand, causing him to exclaim, "Buy your own, jerk."

"I will. Bitch." He examined the pen for a moment then tossed it at Jimmy's head. He reached for his tablet only to be tackled by Jimmy.

"Tickle fight!" Jimmy quickly pinned Tim and soon had him begging for mercy.

"Nonono. Damn it! You cheated. Somehow." Tim scrambled to his feet the second Jimmy got off him. "Go clean your ruck, you menace."

Jimmy obeyed, literally dumping his ruck on the floor. He quickly sorted out what he felt he actually needed and put it on the small table provided. It was supposed to be a dining table, but it was tiny. As Tim observed, it was meant for either midgets or one person, he wasn't sure which. But it did the job Jimmy needed.

He was sorting through when something smacked him in the back. "Hey!"

"Hey your own self. Happy whatever." Tim smirked. He'd found his backup messenger bag at the bottom of his ruck. He'd thought he'd lost it so he'd wound up bringing two.

Jimmy grinned, "Well, thanks an' all that. Here." He produced the companion to his multi-pen. "I thought I'd left this at home, so happy what the fuck ever to you too."

They spent the next half hour or so unpacking, packing their messenger bags and getting settled.

"Okay. Now that that's done, what do we do? I'm not sitting in this room for the rest of the day." Tim looked at his watch. "It's only ten."

Jimmy closed his ruck and put it in the closet then said, "Well, we could just wander over to the convention center, poke around, get in everyone's way and ask stupid questions. Figure out where Abby and Ducky should be before the fact. See what you'll need to make your shit mate with their shit… that sort of thing. And find something to eat. I'm hungry."

Tim blinked then snickered, "Well, why not. I'll call Abby to let her know where we'll be. She can drag Ducky to whatever the hell she wants to see before the convention starts. I'm not goin' to the range of museums and shit she wants to see unless it's absolutely unavoidable."

Jimmy shuddered. "I swear, she'll want to go to the Museum of Science and Industry to see the pendulum and the sub. Been there, done that. So not interested in a repeat. I was bored shitless the first time."

They agreed to sneak out then call, rather meanly leaving Ducky in the lurch.

.


	2. Chapter 2

Ch 2

Abby called Ducky after Tim called her. She wanted lunch; a bit early, but she was hungry. Ducky agreed to meet her in the lobby so they could talk to the desk about where to go.

Ducky grumbled, "I would love to find an old-fashioned carvery. I do miss my beef and Yorkshire pudding. And a nice Spotted Dick for afters."

Abby blinked, "Um… Spotted what?"

"Spotted Dick. It's pudding made from suet, sultanas, flour and… I'm not sure what else. Lovely with custard sauce."

Abby patted his shoulder. "It does sound good. Maybe we can find someplace nearby. I do know that there's a really good English pub style restaurant in Alexandria. It just opened about two months ago. I like it. Only went once just to see. We can go when we get home from this craziness."

"Sounds lovely. Well, here we are." Ducky turned to the desk clerk and asked about a good restaurant.

"Well, there's your usual Chinese, Italian, and all that. There's also a nice Thai place if you want your tonsils boiled. But there's also a great new place called the Beefeater. It's a… um… typical English pub, or so they say. I've heard good things but I won't recommend it because I haven't been myself." He took a map out of a rack and made a mark on it. "Here's where that is." He made another mark. "And this is us. It's about three blocks. I'll call you a cab."

Ducky eyed Abby. "Abigail?"

Abby dimpled at Ducky, saying, "I can walk that easy. I wore my boots."

And she had; in fact she was wearing the same clothing she'd flown in, so she was more than prepared to walk.

Ducky nodded to the clerk. "We'll walk it. Thank you."

The doorman also offered to get them a cab and was politely refused. He did give them additional directions when asked.

Abby had a sneaking suspicion that the directions were either not complete or lacking. The doorman agreed, "Well, if you're going to the Beefeater, you'll never find it. You got that map?"

Abby showed it to him. He pointed, "Yeah, they don't show that the Beefeater is down a short… not exactly an alley. It's a short dead end with about three shops on each side with the restaurant at the end. You'll walk right by it because it looks like one store. It's got a sort of patio look with some tables and chairs behind a wrought iron fence. They're for the ice cream shop on one side and the bakery on the other." He grinned. "Just go between the fences and right down the alley."

Ducky thanked him and slipped him a ten. "No argy-bargy. I'll let you know if it's good or not."

The doorman just tipped his hat and thanked Ducky.

They started down the street towards the courtyard-style shopping center, Abby chattering, wondering and marveling over everything she saw. Ducky enjoyed her chatter and her rather pithy remarks about some of the architecture they saw. She compared one building to a smashed cupcake.

They soon arrived at the mall, more like a large town square with a very nice pocket park in the middle of it. The walkways were brick laid in a herringbone pattern with small gaps for shrubs, mostly rose bushes and lavender. They found the gap in the wrought-iron fence easily enough, but they would have missed it if the doorman hadn't described it to them.

They took their time walking down the alley, widow-shopping as they went. One of the stores had a window display of camping gear and clothing. Abby snickered. "Duckman, you see that? Zip off legs? What the actual fuck? Seriously, bare legs and hiking aren't that good an idea. And that tent? Do not, I beg you, put that anywhere near a real fire. Ugh! The stupid, it burns."

Ducky had been eyeing the male mannequin with some disfavor. "I agree. Who in their right mind would wear that flaming pink thing? Pink camo? Obnoxious."

They walked on snickering together. They entered the forecourt of the restaurant and stopped to stare. There by the door was a man dressed in a Beefeater uniform. Now most people, when they think of an English uniform, think of the Royal Guard with their tall bearskin caps and red coats.

Ducky smiled at the uniform of knee-length scarlet tunic with the distinctive white neck ruff, scarlet knee-breeches and stockings, and a round brimmed hat called a Tudor bonnet.

He told Abby that it was, "An extremely fine example of a full state uniform of The Yeomen Warders of Her Majesty's Royal Palace and Fortress the Tower of London, and Members of the Sovereign's Body Guard of the Yeoman Guard Extraordinary, popularly known as the Beefeaters." He waved Abby ahead of him saying, "Shall we?"

Abby gave him a curtsey, which looked a bit silly as she was wearing BDU's. "We shall."

Ducky smiled at the Beefeater doorman as he opened the door with a bow. Abby wriggled her fingers at the man, causing him to smile back. "Ma'am. Sir. Welcome to Beefeaters. Please be seated."

Abby asked, "Hostess?"

"No, Ma'am. Your server will be with you in a moment."

Abby wanted to sit in one of the cubicle-like booths so they settle in comfortably and waited for someone to come. Ducky looked around and smiled. "It's an old-fashioned carvery, so the menu is on the wall."

Abby looked around taking in the decor. "It's really just like a buffet, isn't it?"

"More or less, but it's called a carvery because it serves ham and turkey as well as beef. You just tell the carver how much you want then help yourself to the sides. So… Beef?"

"Of course. Rare as hen's teeth. Is their tea any good, I wonder?"

"Possibly." Ducky was always doubtful of the quality of tea in an American restaurant. It was usually tepid, weak, and dreadful. He usually went with water.

Their server came to the table just then. "What would you like to drink?"

Ducky smiled. "Is the tea any good?"

"It's made the way our boss's Gran taught her. Real English style tea. Pot for two?"

Abby bounced in her seat. "Yes, please."

"Very good. I'll bring your water right away and the tea in about ten minutes. We have to wait for the water to boil. Just tell the carver what you want; prices are on the chalk board. Enjoy your dinner." With that she headed off to fetch their drinks.

Abby got up to check the offerings out. She was delighted to see that they had roast beef, prime rib, ham, and turkey. There were also pans of some sort of fish and already-carved roast chicken. The sides were impressive: mashed potatoes, pan-seared Brussels sprouts, steamed green beans, peas, corn, hot rolls, and baked potatoes, which Ducky called jacket potatoes. There was also Yorkshire pudding, just as Ducky had hoped, as well as Bubble and Squeak cakes with cabbage, mushy peas with bacon, and pork pies.

As she strolled down the buffet table, she sniffed this and that. One of the carvers hurried to assure her, "Everything is fresh within the hour."

"Oh… Um… not checking for freshness, just enjoying the smells. Did you know that scent is one of the best keys to memory?"

"No, I didn't. Nice to know. Please let me know if you need something."

Ducky took his time, looking for exactly what he wanted. He finally told the carver, "I'll have a slice of that lovely rare roast."

The carver carefully cut off a nice slice, "Trim the fat, sir?"

"Please. Leaves more room on the plate, don't you know." Ducky took the offered plate and moved on to get a serving of Yorkshire pudding, mushy peas, and pan-seared sprouts.

Abby decided on the prime rib, so she approached the carver. "A slice of prime rib, please."

The carver proceeded to insult Abby and nearly lose his job as his boss was standing nearby. "It's awfully rare for a girl. How about a nice slice of turkey instead?"

Abby glowered. "Excuse me? I don't believe I heard you correctly. I'll have a slice of the prime rib. And you can stuff the turkey. Thankyousomuch."

"Okay. But if you don't like it, don't blame me."

Abby crossed her arms under her breasts and said, "Just cut."

The Manager walked up behind the carver and snarled, "Go to the back. I'll carve for the lady." He turned to Abby. "I'm so sorry about that. I've never… I'd skin him alive but there's no use for it. I'll talk to him." He took a deep breath. "Now. Would you like a middle slice? How rare do you like your meat?"

Abby smiled at him, ire soothed. "As AJ says, blood rare. If it moos when I stick it, I'll stab it until it stops."

The Manager cut her a nice middle slice which was on the rare side of medium rare. "Here you go."

"Thank you." Abby took her plate, got a baked potato and some green beans, filled another plate with rolls then went to join Ducky at their table.

Ducky was happily addressing the tea pot. He'd been more than pleased when their server had brought him a pre-heated pot full of nearly boiling water and a small tin of tea complete with spoon. He'd just finished putting the tea leaves in the steeper when Abby came back to the table.

He took one look at Abby's face and demanded, "Who do I dress down?"

"The carver had the nerve to tell me I wouldn't like the prime rib as it was too rare for a girl. Really? A girl? He's in serious shit. The manager told him to go to the back then cut my slice for me." She gave her potato a vicious poke.

"Dear, dear. How dare he? I'll have some words with someone." Ducky started to stand up but the manager showed up before he did more than scoot his chair back.

"I'm so sorry ma'am, sir. I had a word with the carver and I've sent him home for the day. We'll probably transfer him to Budget Buffet, that's our sister store. And I apologize again for the insult." He looked at the table for a moment then said, "Excuse me minding your business, but perhaps that tea has steeped enough?"

Ducky swore under his breath. "I'm sure you're quite right. One moment." He quickly pulled the pierced cylindrical steeper out of the pot, let it drain then put it on the saucer provided.

The manager continued, "Excellent. As I was saying, your meal is comped; I hope to see you again soon."

Abby shrugged. "Okay, that was nice. Is the tea really ready?"

Ducky poured Abby a cup and pushed it across the table saying, "It is, and very nice it is, too." He poured himself a cup and set to eating his roast.

Abby swallowed, then said, "The sprouts are really good. Apple reduction?"

"I believe so. My roast is exceptional, very tender. And the peas are just soft enough. If you overcook them, they go slimy."

"I know. Tony really gave that place in Alexandria a dressing down. They overcooked the peas, then ran them through a blender."

"Oh, my goodness. That sounds disgusting."

Abby nodded. "More soup than anything else."

"I'm sure." Ducky took a roll from the plate that Abby had filled. "Excellent rolls." He tore it into pieces, then buttered one.

Abby chuckled, "Sister Elizabeth Mary was on a rampage last week. She's hostessing a tea every Sunday after second Mass. One of the older ladies, someone who should have known better, actually tried to cut her roll with the butter knife."

Ducky made a face. "Manners are going downhill at an alarming pace."

"I know. Besides being rude, it's not sanitary to touch your food with serving utensils. That's why you have flatware of your own." Abby shook her head. Ducky was a font of old-fashioned manners information, and she loved it. She was, despite her Goth persuasion, a bit fussy about manners.

Ducky nodded. "It is getting bad. One of the younger men in my bridge club actually stirred his coffee with the sugar shell. Everyone was shocked. Needless to say, he got a quick and nasty lecture from the Elder Statesman."

Abby poked her meat. "This is so good. I'm wondering if I want another slice."

Ducky pointed out, "There's a full table of wonderful looking sweets. Perhaps you should look that over before deciding?"

Abby nodded. "You're right. I've never seen deserts like this. Any suggestions?"

"Check anything with fresh fruit carefully. Over-ripe or frozen then thawed tend to make a watery mess."

"Okay. You want me to bring you anything, or would you rather check it out for yourself?"

"I'll go over as soon as I'm done. Thank you anyway."

Abby walked over to the buffet and ambled down the length of it. She knew what most of the deserts were due to Ducky's explanations. She was delighted to see Eton Mess, Berry Trifle, Individual Steamed Lemon Puddings swimming in a small puddle of Treacle Sauce, Sticky Toffee Pudding with Caramel Sauce, and Ducky's much desired Spotted Dick.

She settled on a small bowl of Eton Mess, a Lemon Pudding, and a slice of Toffee Pudding.

Ducky eyed the dishes, then remarked, "You're going to burst."

"Not. I saved up." Abby wriggled in her seat, ready to enjoy her treats.

Ducky just watched her indulgently as she sampled the Eton Mess.

"Oh… Mmmm. Ducky, so good. But why do they call it Mess?"

Ducky pointed to her bowl. "Just look at it. It's a mess. But delicious."

Abby eyed the bowl for a moment. "Well, when you're right, you're right."

Ducky got up to get himself a bit of Spotted Dick and some Berry Trifle.

They finished eating at the same time.

Abby pushed back from the table. "Oh, man. I'm just a teensy bit too full, but it was so good."

Ducky patted his stomach. "I'll admit to eating just that much too much myself. I do agree, it was excellent."

Abby got up, fished her wallet out of her pocket and dropped a couple of dollars on the table. "For the server." Their server had been excellent, nearly unnoticeable; keeping water and tea pot filled and their dirty dishes disappeared like magic.

"Yes, he was excellent." Ducky added a five of his own.

They went to the register only to be told, "We're so very sorry for that carver. The Manager said there was no charge. Have a nice day."

Ducky just nodded to the lady and headed for the door. Abby smiled then followed.

They decided to walk around the square, just to settle their stomachs. Abby pointed to things in windows, commenting on them in an attempt to make Ducky laugh. She succeeded more than she failed.

They were laughing over a pair of shoes that were on platforms so tall that Abby admitted even she wouldn't wear them when a young man jumped out from a short alley and grabbed Ducky. He waved a knife around and ordered, "Give me your money! Now!"

Abby flinched but Ducky was more than up to the task. He grabbed the man's knife hand, twisted, then hip-checked him. This made him drop the knife, then the hip-check put him off balance, and Ducky flipped him over his shoulder. He landed flat on his back with a loud 'oof'. Abby put her combat boot on his neck and barked, "No you don't!"

Ducky got his phone out, saying, "Do keep your foot on him, Abby." He dialed 911 and told the dispatcher what was going on. She told him to let the man go as they could get hurt and they didn't have jurisdiction. Ducky just hung up on her. "Well! I never! Can you believe that? They told me to let him go."

Abby shook her head. "No! They didn't!"

"They did. So. Let him go." Ducky's face darkened. "But first…" But whatever Ducky was going to do or say was too late; the second Abby took her foot off the man he was up and gone. "Well, never mind."

They didn't know that they'd been recorded, not only on the mall security cameras, but by several bystanders.

.

Meanwhile, Tim and Jimmy were at the convention venue.

Tim eyed the open lobby with a jaundiced eye. "Who the hell decided that a massive cathedral-like, mostly glass and steel entry was a good idea? This place looks like an airport terminal and a new-age cathedral got together and had… this."

Jimmy agreed. "Yeah. It's… impressive, airy, light… and fugly as hell."

Tim snickered. "I feel like whistling just to see if it'll echo. But… we need to find room 6A and lecture hall Indigo. So… map… or info desk?"

Jimmy shrugged, "Up to you. I'm just along to provide moral support and schlep things."

"Info desk then. We really ought to check to make sure that Abby and Ducky's invitations are valid. The way things are going, I wouldn't put it past things to go FUBAR here."

It wasn't hard to find the Information Desk and Directory; it was right in the middle of the huge room, with signs hanging over it and wide-screen TV sets showing various public announcement videos. It was also a glass-and-steel monstrosity.

Tim dug the papers out of a pocket and approached the desk. "Excuse me. I'm Dr. Mallard and Dr. Sciuto's tec. I need to check Room 6A and Lecture Hall Indigo for equipment compatibility." The desk clerk started to say something, shaking her head. "And don't tell me your set up is compatible with all equipment, it probably is but I'm not takin' chances. It'll only take me fifteen minutes in each room."

The clerk sighed then fished a map out from under the counter. "Fine. This is the first floor. Lecture Hall Indigo is on the mezzanine level and Room 6A is down that hall and on the left. Don't let the designation fool you, it's huge. Seating 600 people. Lecture Hall Indigo seats even more at 1200. The electronics are all computer controlled from a master computer at the back of the room or hall. Sort of like an old-fashioned movie projectionist's booth. Very state-of-the-art. Take your time. No one else has asked to check things out."

Tim took his papers back, thanked the clerk, took the map, and headed down the indicated hall.

It didn't take Tim long to find the control room and check the setup. He relaxed with a sigh. "Well, that's great. Everything matches up. It's all Bluetooth, and the password is written on the projector. Let's check out the other room."

Jimmy, who had been lounging against the wall, rubbed the back of his neck. "My neck is prickling. When we get back to the hotel, I'm arming up."

Tim rubbed his stomach. "I was wondering about that myself. I couldn't decide if I'm hungry or my gut is telling me something." He pushed back in the roller chair, then stood. "I'm carrying, too."

Jimmy allowed, "Well, I'm hungry, too. Let's get this done."

"Okay. Oscar Mike."

But they were to be thwarted in their objective; the floors on the mezzanine were being refinished. They decided to go look for food instead.

The information desk was now occupied by an elderly lady who was busy coping with several demanding suits, so they just walked out into the forecourt to see what they could find.

After a quick reconnoiter, they realized that there was a small courtyard to the side of the venue with several food trucks and carts. Jimmy took a quick tour then returned to Tim. "It all smells clean. Just have to decide what we want. Wraps… tacos… noodles… burgers. There's just about everything you can think of. I don't like the look of the hot dog cart. It's all clean and sweet, but the dogs are boiled."

Tim made a face. All the group hated boiled dogs for various reasons. "Well, those are out. So… How about… ramen. Not that nasty packaged stuff, real fresh ramen."

Jimmy nodded. "Okay. Sounds good. I want a shrimp bowl."

Tim thought as they walked to the truck. "Beef for me."

They put in their orders and were served quickly. Tim wondered if the pre-cooked noodles would be soggy but they weren't. They were just right: al dente, but not undercooked.

Each bowl had a poached egg, a slice of fishcake, some shredded daikon radish, chopped spring onion, and shrimp or beef on top. Tim's bowl had thin sliced beef, while Jimmy's had several large shrimp. The server completed their bowls by pouring the appropriate stock down the side.

Tim paid while Jimmy got their food, chopsticks and a Chinese spoon each, and napkins. No trays were provided, as everything was disposable.

Jimmy got everything to a table without spilling a drop. One of the main attractions of the noodle truck was the fact that their servings were large; the bowl was nearly brim-full of soup.

It didn't take the two friends long to eat. Jimmy slurped his noodles Japanese fashion, while Tim drank the soup first, holding the noodles back with his chopsticks.

Tim leaned back on the bench. "Man, that was good. And there was plenty."

Jimmy agreed, "Mmm, yeah. Really good."

Tim stretched, then stood up. He gathered all the trash and wadded it up into a tight ball, which he dropped into a trash can on their way by. "We probably should get back and check on Abby and Ducky. Who knows what kind of mess Abby will get into if we don't keep an eye on her."

Jimmy shuddered. "No shit. I swear, I'm not sure who's worse, AJ or Abby. If there's trouble, one or the other will find it. Let's go."

They trotted off together, heading back to the hotel at a good pace. People turned their heads to watch, wondering what the rush was. One lady poked her friend and said, "I wouldn't kick either of them out of bed for eating crackers." Her friend just snickered.

When they arrived at the hotel, they ran into Ducky and Abby in the lobby; literally.

"Whoa! Watch it!" Abby staggered back into Ducky who braced her to keep either of them from falling down.

Tim grabbed Abby. "Damn! Abby, sorry."

Jimmy hurried to catch Ducky by the shoulder. "Ducky. Man, sorry about that."

Ducky chuckled, "That's all right. Just be a bit more careful."

Abby socked Tim on the shoulder. "Jerk. Watch it."

Tim obligingly winced. "Ow. Sorry. Really."

They headed for the elevator, nodding to the nervous-looking security man and the desk clerk.

Jimmy glanced at Ducky, then said, "Well, you're looking very satisfied. Was your lunch good?"

"It was excellent. The Beefeater is a real English-style carvery. I did enjoy myself very much. How was your expedition?"

Tim snorted. "Good. But that venue looks like a train station and a cathedral mated and had some sort of glass-and-steel bastard child. The electronics are state-of-the-art."

Abby snickered. "I've seen pictures of the place and you're so right. But… I don't know… something about that place gives me the shivers. I… it's not right… somehow."

Tim agreed. "Me too. I'm picking up my sidearm before we go anywhere else."

Jimmy nodded. "Don't like it either. Sidearm for me too. Ducky?"

"I didn't bring one. I should, you know. Jet is always on me about not going armed. But… I am too old for field work. The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak."

Abby poked him in the shoulder with one finger. "No. You just had your fill. But… Jimmy and Tim are right. Something's not right. If I had a gun I'd carry it. So…" She trailed off, thinking.

Ducky eyed her for a moment then said, "Run. Now. She's thinking."

Tim covered his eyes in mock horror. "Oh! My! God! Abby thinking is…"

Abby swatted him on the chest. "Shut it, you."

They were all laughing when the elevator door opened on their floor. They quickly sobered then split to go to their rooms.

.

Abby was just settling in when her phone rang. "Dr. Sciuto."

"Are you sure?"

Abby actually took the phone away from her ear to look at it. "I'm sure I know my own name. Who is this?"

"I was expecting an older man."

"Well, so? I don't give a shit, who the hell are you and what do you want? Exactly. And keep it brief, I'm not in the mood for idiots."

The voice on the other end got decidedly snippy. "Well, as I was expecting to speak to Dr. Sciuto, I'd like to do so. Not some rude personal assistant."

Abby just hung up.

She was just starting to get undressed when her phone rang again. This time it was Ducky.

"Abby, my dear, I was just contacted by some extremely rude fool who insisted that I was Dr Sciuto and my assistant should be fired. They also told me that we are expected for a pre-workshop meet and greet. Who, exactly, we're supposed to meet I don't know. It's in two hours."

Abby swore. She'd wanted to have a nice long soak in a bubble bath and a quiet supper alone to go over her notes. "Okay. I'll take a quick shower. Call Tim and Jimmy, will you?"

"Yes, I will. I'm not going to that blasted meet 'n' greet without them. I need backup." Ducky, who'd also been looking forward to a quiet evening, hung up and dialed Jimmy.

Jimmy answered, listened to Ducky bitch in that British way of his. "Well, shit. Ducky and Abby have to attend a meet 'n' greet tonight. Who they're supposed to meet, even they aren't sure of. So. Suit?"

Tim nodded. "And sidearm."

Abby decided on her second-best suit; she was saving the best one to wear at her presentation, and she certainly wasn't wearing a cocktail dress to this thing. She fished it out of her ruck and hung it up in the bathroom to steam the few wrinkles out. She'd long ago learned all the tricks to packing to minimize wrinkles. A quick shower later, and she was dressed and ready to go. She did wish she had some sort of weapons training, something she was going to rectify as soon as she got home.

Ducky was also getting ready for that blasted nuisance meeting. He had been looking forward to a nice bit of video bridge. He changed his shirt, washed his face, and combed his hair. A quick tweak of his tie, and he was ready.

Jimmy and Tim changed into suits which were cut to hide a shoulder holster, and headed into the hall. Tim knocked on Ducky's door, while Jimmy collected Abby.

The four friends made their way down to the lobby in companionable silence. They arrived in the lobby just in time to hear someone say, "Really. It's getting so you can't set foot outside your door. But that old guy really showed that mugger what's what."

Tim and Jimmy stared at the broadcast with undisguised astonishment. Jimmy finally said, "Well, damn, Ducky. RED indeed."

Ducky just shrugged. "I will not be held hostage. Come." He walked away from the sitting area which held the TV, absently making sure no one in that group could see his face.

Jimmy and Tim exchanged glances, shrugged, then followed.

They took their time walking to the venue. None of them actually wanted to be there; it was going to be boring and probably difficult. Abby had already told Tim not to get more than three feet from her, as the first person to try to maul her, or corner her, was going to get hurt.

Tim sighed. He was well aware of the problem from his Thom E. Gemcity days. "Okay, I won't. But how are we going to get drinks an' stuff?"

Jimmy announced, "That's my bailiwick. I'll keep the drinks and snacks flowing. That way I've got control of it at all times. Wouldn't do of any of us to get rufied."

Abby agreed, telling them, "No, I thank you. There was a really well-known lady that got rufied in India. Big scandal. The guy tried to marry her. Didn't work, and he got arrested, but she refuses to go to India, Pakistan, and a couple of other countries. Um… So do I."

Ducky shook his head. "It never ceases to amaze me that any man would want a woman that doesn't want him. Absolutely disgusting."

Abby had to point out. "I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself."

"I know, my dear, but why should you have to?"

Abby shrugged then took Ducky's arm. "Let's forget about that and just try to enjoy ourselves tonight. Okay?"

They were soon at the venue and handed their invitations to security. The man checked them then handed them back. "Please keep track of those. You'll need them again tomorrow for the official sign-in. You'll be issued ID badges then."

Ducky took all the invitations back and tucked them into his inside jacket pocket. "Thank you."

They made their way up to the mezzanine level and into the ballroom there. It was also one of those glass, steel, and chrome monstrosities that tried to be elegant and only managed to be pretentious. Abby muttered, "Multi-purpose or multi-useless?"

Tim glanced around and muttered back, "Useless, I'll bet."

Jimmy took a moment then pointed. "There. That looks like a decent place to park ourselves."

Ducky agreed. "It does. Semi-sheltered; close to the loo and the buffet table. The servers can get to us with drinks, although I do think we might want to get unopened beer and open it ourselves."

Tim glanced around again. "Okay. I see it. Yeah. We'll fort up there."

Jimmy wondered, "When did we get so paranoid?"

Abby frowned. "Don't know. Sad experience?"

"Maybe."

They made their way to the shallow alcove created by a short planter at the back and a couch on the front. This left a space about six by six, plenty of room to socialize without leaving them at the mercy of grabby brown-nosers and snide colleagues. They were settled in in seconds and already had servers swarming them with offers of hors d'oeuvres and requests to know what they wanted to drink.

The servers dissipated when they were sure that everyone had a drink and a plate of hors d'oeuvres. One of the servers noticed that Abby was eyeing her drink with a doubtful expression.

"I'm sorry. Is it the wrong drink? I was sure you asked for a Cranberry Collins."

Abby nodded. "I did. But… well… I'm not too sure about a drink that I didn't see poured. No insult intended."

"And none taken. All our drinks are safe. We're all bonded, and the drink goes directly from the bartender to the server to you. We haven't had a problem in more than two years." She smiled at Abby. "No one gets messed with on my watch."

Abby beamed at her. "That makes me feel so much better. Thank you." She took a sip of her drink. "Mmm. Yummy."

The server smiled back and went off to get her tray.

Jimmy took a Mimosa, while Tim had Captain Morgan and Coke. Ducky accepted a scotch but put it aside almost at once.

"Something wrong with your drink, sir?" The server didn't even look legal.

Ducky picked up the glass and handed it to him. "Yes. This is some sort of house blend, and it's… undrinkable. No nose, flat… well, you're not interested in my critique. Please take it away. Bring me some hot tea?"

The server took the glass and sniffed it. "Oh, no. I wouldn't even use that as a mixer. Terrible. Tea? By your accent I assume you'd like a nice Earl Gray?" Ducky nodded hopefully. "Coming right up."

It wasn't long before the server was back with a nice tea set. He put it on the table at Ducky's elbow and said, "There. It should be steeped in a moment. When it's strong enough just pull the knob up then over, it's hinged. Don't fuss with taking the ball out, it'll be out of the tea so it won't stew. If you need sugar or…" he trailed off at Ducky's expression. "Well, I didn't think so, but you never know."

"Thank you, dear boy." Ducky nodded then turned to greet a colleague. "Franklin, hello. One moment." Ducky followed the server's instructions then poured himself a cup.

Franklin shook his head. "You don't want tea." He waved a hand at a server, who ignored him. "I'll get you a nice scotch and water. Scotch here is excellent."

Ducky remembered why he didn't like the man much. "I've tasted that sewer water they're calling scotch. I'll stick to tea. Have you read my paper? The one this presentation is based on?"

"What? Oh, no. I'll just sit in on the presentation. I'm writing a refutation at the moment." He waved at the server again and was given the cold shoulder.

"Franklin, please cease to flail at the servers. How many drinks have you had already?" Ducky sipped his tea and managed to maneuver his associate into the outer fringes of the group.

Franklin quit his attempt to get another drink. "Um… three? Or four?"

Ducky was horrified and showed it. "Good lord, man. And I'm sure you had a couple before you got here. What did you do? Chug them? You're not going to get another drop or I miss my guess."

Tim eased between Ducky and Franklin. "Dr. Franklin was it? I believe someone is looking for you. Over there." He pointed to the far side of the room. "Better hurry or you'll miss them." He gave the man a not-so-gentle shove which got him going.

"Thank you. My goodness, he was drunk as a skunk already. Not the sort of impression he was hoping to make. And he's already writing a refutation before we've even presented. Ass."

Abby overheard that and announced, "Well, I never. That's… that's…" She flailed her hands around in typical Abby fashion then demanded, "What do we do?"

Tim sipped his drink then offered, "Nothing. I've heard of him… Dr. Arthur Franklin. He's well known for refuting anything and everything. I got a copy of his latest last… December?"

Jimmy blinked. "What did you do with it?"

"Lit the fire ring at Jet's place."

Abby giggled while Ducky snorted into his tea. "Tim, you're so bad."

"I am."

Jimmy agreed. He finished his drink and signaled to the server. When she came over he ordered another drink. "Shirley Temple Mimosa, please."

"A what? Sorry, I don't know that drink."

"Orange juice and any white soda."

"Okay. I'll be right back."

Before the server left Tim asked for a refresh on his Morgan and Coke.

It wasn't long before the server was back with unopened bottles of orange juice, ginger ale, and Coke. She refreshed Tim's drink then mixed another for Jimmy. After she handed them their drinks she offered Abby a refresh on her drink. "And I brought some cranberry juice. If you'd like?"

Abby did so the server opened a small can of juice and poured for Abby. "I'll just leave the can and bottles?"

Ducky nodded. "Please do." He slipped her a twenty then said, "The tea leaves will stand another steep. Would you mind terribly bringing me some extra hot water?"

"Not a problem. I'll be back in a flash."

Abby groaned. "Oh, no. Not Smyth-Warrington. I hate him. He's such a snob."

Tim eyed him for a moment. "Looks familiar. Is his first name… something weird?"

"Crispin." Jimmy knew the man too.

Ducky eyed the man as he approached then descended into dire muttering in Highland cant.

Smyth-Warrington shook hands around, taking the opportunity to caress Abby's wrist with his index finger. She jerked her hand away with a scowl. Tim shook hands next and made a point of crushing his fingers; he had a powerful grip now thanks to Abby's gift of Power Putty for his birthday.

Jimmy managed to refrain from doing the same thing, but Ducky refused to shake hands explaining, "Arthritis."

After a quick round of banalities another man wandered up. "Oh, Sciuto. Hello."

Abby dimpled at this man and said, "Alex, how are you. Alex Henderson I'd like you to meet Dr. Donald Mallard, my fellow presenter. Timothy McGee, my tech person and escort. Dr. Jimmy Palmer, Dr Mallard's co-ME. Everyone, this is Dr Alex Henderson. He's a biochemist."

Everyone said hello and shook hands. Smyth-Warrington nodded in a rather condescending way and asked, "Have you joined MENSA yet?"

"I joined several years ago."

"Ah. And you, Mr McGee? Not a member?"

Tim just eyed him. "I joined when I was 16. Just after I went to MIT."

Jimmy shrugged. "No. I don't have time… yet."

Ducky eyed Smyth-Warrington for a moment then said, "I've been a member since… oh, 1970 something. I do wonder. Are you a relative of the Surry Smyth-Warrington's?"

"Not that I know of."

"Oh. Well. Very nice people. Not dreadful social climbers like some." Ducky gave him a look that implied that he was one of those dreadful people. "Still."

Smyth-Warrington ran over him. "I'll have to check to see for sure. Do they have a title?"

"Baronet, I believe. But they don't talk about it. Rather… everyone who is anyone knows that they have it."

Tim interjected. "But… rubbing someone's nose in that sort of thing is… just not done."

Smyth-Warrington snorted. "If you got it, flaunt it. I'm smart, everyone knows it, but it doesn't hurt to remind people."

Jimmy sipped his drink for a moment then pointed out. "Remember, even at a Mensa convention someone is the dumbest person in the room."

Smyth-Warrington eyed him then demanded, "Exactly what are you implying?"

"Not implying anything. Just this seems to be a case of someone suffering from a bad case of Delta Mike Foxtrot. And it's not me."

Abby frowned as she sorted that out. "Oh! Jimmy."

Jimmy just grinned at her. She finished her drink. "I need another drink. If you don't mind?" She handed her glass to Jimmy.

Smyth-Warrington took the off-hand hint and left, muttering.

Tim eyed his retreating back. "Juliette Foxtrot Charlie. Nimrod."

Ducky poured the last of his second pot of tea. "Precisely. I do hope someone worth speaking with shows… soon."

"Fat chance. Most of the people who actually show up for these meet 'n' greet things aren't worth the air to tell 'em to go away."

Abby was just getting ready to reply when one of those event coordinators that Abby referred to as twinkly dimwits showed up.

"Good evening everyone. How are we? Are we having fun? Just let me get you some fresh drinks, ok? Nothing like a bit of Dutch Courage to loosen things up."

Tim shook his head. "I'm fine." He then lied like a bear rug. "I don't do drunk well. Usually get violent."

Ducky nodded sadly. "I'm not much anymore. In my salad days I could drink nearly anyone under the table. No more, I'm afraid. Tea for me. Beside the fact that your scotch is appalling."

Jimmy returned with Abby's drink and a refresh of his own liquorless Mimosa.

"Abby?" He handed her Collins to her.

"Thank you. Miss Twinkles was just trying to oil the works. Not a good idea… what with Tim's propensity to get a bit rough." She grinned at Jimmy who blinked a couple of times, took in the coordinator then just shrugged and took a sip of his drink.

Well, that's fine. I'm glad to see that you came. Most of the participants didn't bother. I'm so glad to see that NICS has cooperative people."

Tim growled, "That's NCIS and we're leaving."

Jimmy ditched his drink and accepted Abby's as well. Tim handed his glass to the coordinator and stalked off, back stiff.

Ducky shook his head. "Really. If we'd known this wasn't an official part of the proceedings, we'd have stayed away too. It's not, is it? Because attempting to get everyone drunk the night before the presentation is not… comme il faut." Turning sharply he followed the rest out the door.

Abby frowned. "I wonder whose idea this whole mess was. Ducky?"

"I'm not sure. Let me make a call." Ducky pulled his phone out of his pocket, poked at it, then said, "Marshal. Ducky here. Who decide it was a good idea to have a social do the night before the presentation intro?" He listened for a moment, then replied. "We left early as the coordinator … no idea what her name is… decided to try to get everyone drunk." He hung up, pocketed his phone, then said. "The Venue Director wanted to score some social points, so he arranged this fiasco. Let's go back to the hotel, find some food, then go up."

"Sounds like a plan." Tim nodded his agreement with Jimmy.

Abby just kept up with them… until her heel broke. Ouch! Damn it!"

Tim turned. "Abby? What's wrong?"

"Broke my heel." She took her shoe off to examine it. "Well. Expensive as hell but shoddy workmanship. I'd send them back but it's not worth the hassle."

Tim squatted down. "Get on. I'm not letting you walk barefooted on a public sidewalk. Who knows what's on it."

"Oh. Thanks. I'm a bit heavy?" She leaned against his back and put her arms around his neck.

"Fuck that shit. You weigh in at… what?… One thirty?"

Abby wrapped her legs around his waist and settled in. "And change. If you get tired, I can walk."

Jimmy disagreed. "No you won't. I can carry you. Remember my usual ruck weighs in at one eighty, one ninety. And Tim's right. You will not walk on the sidewalk barefoot. Just… yuck." He shuddered.

Tim stood up, bounced a few times to make Abby squeal, then walked off. "How's it goin'?"

"Good. Thanks."

It didn't take them long to make it back to the hotel. Abby started to get down but Tim made her stay on his back until they were inside.

They were immediately approached by the night doorman, who was stationed inside. "Is everything alright? Did the young lady hurt herself?"

Abby waved the shoes at him. "I'm fine. Thank you. The heel broke and Tim didn't want me walking on the sidewalk in my bare feet. Nasty."

"It is. Here, give those to me and I'll see if they can be fixed."

Abby handed them over but said, "They're shoddy. I don't think they'll hold. But… I do need a new pair of something as those are the only heels I brought."

"I'll see what can be done."

Abby poked Tim. "Put me down now. I'm fairly sure the floor is clean."

Tim let her down and they thanked the Doorman again then headed for the elevator.

Abby announced. "I'm changing into something comfortable then I want food. That one drink wasn't enough to get me drunk but I'm uncomfortably buzzed. It's too early for this shit."

Tim and Jimmy agreed. Tim grumbled, "Who the hell drinks six or seven drinks before five anyway?"

"Savages, that's who." Ducky shook his head in disapproval. "I'll be wanting something fit to eat. Those hors d'oeuvres were disgusting. I'll be willing to bet you they were brought in frozen and done in a microwave."

Tim snorted. "Ducky, you know I won't bet on a sure thing. It's…" he looked at his watch. "nearly four. Why don't we change clothes, rest for about an hour then find something worth eating?"

Abby shook her head. "I'm going to go over my notes. Room service for me."

Ducky agreed. "I'm still a bit full from lunch. The hors d'oeuvres that I did eat have left me without appetite. You boys go on along. Enjoy yourselves. Good night." He retreated to his room and made a call which resulted in a messenger knocking on his door about an hour later.

Tim and Jimmy went to their room and both flopped down on their beds. Tim stretched then asked, "Did you see that bunch of men in the far end of the room?"

"Yeah. I wonder who they were?"

"No idea but that twinkly, giggly woman headed for them after we ran her off. Wonder if they are having a convention of some kind too."

They visited about this and that for a bit then both fell asleep.

.


	3. Chapter 3

Ch 3

Morning came and with it came the text that they should be at the formal breakfast by 0900.

Abby announced to her room. "And why didn't they send us all a schedule? This is ridiculous."

Ducky wasn't real happy about it either. He was of the opinion that the organizers needed an organizer.

Tim and Jimmy agreed that they just hoped that the food was good. Tim had grumbled, "Fat chance. It's sure to be the breakfast equivalent of Chicken a la King."

Jimmy sighed, "Probably right, but hope springs eternal. Let's go."

The breakfast turned out to be the first event in the whole program. And just as bad as Tim had predicted.

First, the seating was those uncomfortable orange plastic nightmares that were most venues' idea of proper chairs. Second, the coffee was weak as dishwater, and there was no tea. Third, every person who had anything to do with organizing the convention made a speech.

Abby moaned softly, then grumbled, "I hate this. I'm hungry, and there's two more people who are making speeches. Drivel mostly. I wish they'd hurry up."

Tim, seated near a door, eyed it. "I think we can sneak out that door. Wanna try?"

Ducky frowned, then announced, "I'm not sneaking out. I'm just getting up and leaving. Weak bladder, don't you know?" And with that, he got up and ambled toward the restrooms, smiling in that genial way of his.

Jimmy just followed him, ruck in hand. Jimmy had declared that he wasn't going anywhere without his ruck and he meant it.

Abby and Tim used their distraction to slip out the nearby door. They found that it let into a utility corridor, so called because it kept the necessary housekeeping functions out of eyesight.

"Oh, goody. We can sneak into the kitchens and see if breakfast is worth the trouble." Abby trotted in the direction of the smells.

Tim followed, saying, "Let me call Jimmy and see where he and Ducky are. I'll arrange a meet."

"Okay." Abby stuck her head around the door to the kitchens and sighed. "Oh. My. God. They… look." She pulled back to allow Tim to see into the kitchen.

Whoever had planned this mess obviously didn't understand the theory of aging food. In other words, you can only hold food so long before it starts to taste off, turn runny, or curdle; it ages out.

So, the food for breakfast had been cooked in advance. It would have been fine, if they hadn't allowed everyone and his dog to give a speech. Now, food that would have been fine with an opening speech and a few words from an organizer was inedible, having been held for over an hour.

Tim eyed the pans and said, "No way am I subjecting myself to… that." He slipped in, poked a few things then returned to Abby's side. "The cheese sauce is curdled and the gravy separated. No. Just… no. I'll call Jimmy."

He called and put his phone on speaker. "Ducky? Jimmy?"

"We're here, dear boy. What is it?"

"You won't believe it. Or maybe you will. They've held the food so long I wouldn't feed it to Butch. Let's meet somewhere and go out."

"Very well. We're in the lobby, by the front doors."

Abby nodded. "Okay. We'll be there in ten minutes or less." Abby looked around. "If we can figure out how to get to the front."

Tim solved that by stopping a kitchen helper. "Excuse me. We sneaked out of the breakfast. Boring doesn't begin to tell it. So… how do we get to the lobby?"

The helper snickered. "I hear ya, man. Longwinded doesn't cover it. And none of those jerks are the smart ones either."

Tim nodded. "If you can't blind them with your brilliance, baffle them with bullshit. Front?"

"That way. Just go right, then straight. Can't miss it. An' I'm not kidding, there's not another door between here and there."

Abby slipped the guy a ten, winked and followed Tim through the door.

They were faced with a right turn, no other way to go, and a long hall that dead-ended at double doors. These doors opened behind a desk at the back of the lobby. Tim lifted the bar flap and held it while Abby walked through. He followed, shutting the flap behind him.

"Okay." Abby looked around. "Oh! There they are." She pointed to a small group near the front doors.

Tim followed her over to the group.

They were just in time to hear Ducky say, "Diamond merchants? How interesting."

A short, stocky man with grizzled blond hair replied, "Yes. We have several conventions every year. We establish how many karats are to be released, who is blackballed for selling blood diamonds, and have a show of new cuts. And before you ask, the displays are all CZ's."

Abby shrugged. "I'm a bit of a reverse snob. If it's pretty and sparkly, who cares? I mean, real diamonds are a great investment, holding value or even increasing. But for pretty? Doesn't really matter."

The man smiled. "A very smart lady. Real diamonds will get you killed. My wife doesn't even wear a wedding ring." Someone called out, he looked in that direction then said, "I need to go. We're all going to breakfast together. Your group got the banquet hall before we did. Not that it makes that much difference. Your group is about four hundred to our two plus. See you." He hurried off to join his companions.

Tim looked out a side window. "Hey! The trucks are here… some of them. Let's go see what they've got."

Abby, Jimmy and Ducky just followed him to the side door and out into the area where trucks were allowed to park. There were also, just like the night before, several carts scattered across the pavement. There weren't as many as there would be at lunch, but the six trucks offered a wide variety of good things. Adding in the carts, there was plenty to choose from.

One truck had breakfast burritos and sausage-egg biscuits. They all headed there to see if there was a good selection, Tim also wanted fresh-made, not preassembled.

It turned out that they were fresh-made, right down to scrambling the egg in a wok. The owner cheerfully informed them that making everything at once required a steamer, flat-top, and a wok. He steamed the wraps, cooked the meat on the flat-top, and cooked vegetables and scrambled the eggs in the eight-inch wok. The biscuits were pre-baked, but warmed on the flat-top.

Abby decided on a mushroom-and-sausage burrito with cheese. Tim took two sausage-and-egg biscuits. Ducky frowned over the decision between an English muffin with egg and ham, or a wrap with egg, ham, sausage, and cheese. It didn't take him long to decide on the muffin when he realized that the burritos were made with cheese sauce from a can, while the sandwiches had sliced cheese. Jimmy cheerfully took a bacon, ham, egg, and cheese burrito, declaring happily, "It doesn't make much difference just once."

They carried their food to one of the umbrella tables scattered around the area and settled down to eat.

Abby, ever curious, asked, "Did anyone know that there were two conventions going on at the same time?"

Tim shook his head. "No. It's not usual to tell one convention about another. I mean, who would care?"

Abby shrugged. "I don't know. Just curious. I always thought a diamond merchant convention would have lots of diamonds around."

Ducky shook his head. "Oh, no, my dear. They don't bring diamonds to a convention. Most trading is done on the low-down so thieves don't find out about it. In my salad days, I was actually assigned to a couple of deals between England and other countries. Large payments weren't made in cash in those days. And there was no such thing as an electronic transfer. Diamonds or gold. And gold is so very heavy."

Jimmy nodded. "It is. I heard that they also used valuable things other than diamonds or gold."

Tim interjected, "In one trade between Colombia and Russia? The Colombians used drugs. The Russians… well, no telling what they did with them."

Ducky frowned. "I don't want to know. So… which presentations are we going to attend?"

Abby smiled. "I brought the schedule so we could decide. And we're really lucky. None of the presentations or workshops conflict with our presentation. I marked what I'm interested in. If you just ignore my marks and check off what you're interested in… well, we could just pick between what we're both interested in, or take off on our own."

"I believe that we could compromise a bit. I know I'm interested in wound track examination, which you are not. But it's opposite a workshop on new tissue dyes, which you are interested in. If we're judicious, we can manage most of what we're interested in. Also, if there's something we're both interested in but opposite something of critical interest to one of us, the other one could take notes and share."

Abby let out a little crow of delight. "Great idea. Why didn't I think of that?"

Ducky patted her arm. "Because you're a very kind person who hates to think someone would be left out of something."

Abby shrugged, ate the last of her food and said, "We could find a nice place to hole up for a bit and figure this all out."

Jimmy agreed. "Tim and I will just hang. I do think we ought to keep together as much as possible."

Abby blinked at that. "Um… you have… a gut feeling? I don't like that. I mean, yeah, you can stick with us if you want. But you're going to be awful bored. Still, there's something I don't like about this whole thing."

Tim agreed. "We've all been getting bad vibes from the second we got here. I think this whole mission is a giant Charlie Foxtrot from the get-go. I get the feeling we're gonna be UFO before this Sierra Sierra is over."

Ducky found one of the hosts of the venue and just asked for a small room where they could settle in for about an hour. Just long enough to avoid the breakfast, get their schedule figured out, and still have a few minutes to get to sign-ups. In order to avoid a too-crowded room, they had to sign up for the various workshops and presentations.

The host found them a small room with comfortable seating and a medium-sized conference table to use. He explained that they tried to accommodate all sizes of meetings; this room was used by businessmen who needed a neutral place to meet.

As he explained, he bustled around making coffee, checking what he called add-ins, and generally trying to make them comfortable. He left after asking them to turn off the coffee pot before they left the room and hang a 'Please Clean' sign on the door knob.

Tim poured coffee and handed around the cups—real ceramic cups, he noted. Jimmy put sugar and creamer cups on the table, then sat down in a chair in the conversation area with his coffee.

Abby absently sipped her coffee, wished for a Caf-pow, then started making her list. Ducky did the same, wishing for a proper cuppa. Tim settled in the other chair and got his tablet out of his messenger bag and began to read. Jimmy, who had decided to bring his ruck with all his stuff, got out his own tablet and started on a game.

It wasn't long before Abby and Ducky reached some sort of agreement on who was going to what. Ducky checked his notes one last time, then said, "Excellent. I'll just nip down and sign us up, shall I?"

Abby already had her phone out, speaking to someone. "Yes. I'd like to check to see if I have to come down and sign up in person, or is there some way to do it online?" She listened for a moment, then said, "Very well. Too bad. We'll both be down in a bit. Thank you." She hung up then said, "Well, shoot. We have to do it in person and you can't do it for me. We have to do it ourselves. So… and the lady said it might take as much as an hour. But signups don't start until 10:30. That's nearly an hour."

Ducky folded his papers up and tucked them into a pocket. "I see. Well, why don't we take a peek at the diamond display. I'm sure it will be interesting."

Abby agreed. "Sounds like a plan. Jimmy? Tim?"

Jimmy thought for a moment. "Sounds good to me. I don't know a lot about diamonds, maybe I can learn."

Tim started to say no, then remembered that he'd promised Abby not to leave her alone anywhere she might run into someone 'handsy'. "Okay. But I'm gonna be hungry by 1100 and I'm not eating what passes for lunch here. Why the hell is food at these things so bad?"

Ducky got up and headed for the door speaking over his shoulder. "Because it's cheap, can be served by a badly trained monkey, and most people will be well on their way to being at least tipsy by the time they eat."

Tim poked Jimmy. "We've been owned."

Jimmy replied, "We most certainly have been."

Abby agreed but added, "The servers here seem really nice. That one said she wasn't going to let anything happen on her watch. She made sure all our mixers were in unopened containers."

"She did."

Ducky admonished, "I wasn't speaking about the servers here in particular. I was speaking in general. Come on."

Abby trotted after Ducky, with Tim and Jimmy right behind her. They managed to jam in the door; wide shoulders, narrow door, not a good mix. Tim turned his shoulders a bit, Jimmy did the same, and they managed to pass.

Tim shoulder-butted Jimmy. "Jerk."

"Bitch."

That sorted, they hurried after their friends.

The diamond display was in a room on the ground floor, behind the vestibule and across from the service area. It should have been a cramped afterthought; it wasn't. Evidently it was also a ballroom, small but elegant. The chandlers were Waterford and very nice. The light they cast made everything sparkle.

A security guard stopped them at the door, saying, "Are you members of the association?"

Ducky replied, "No, but we were invited by… oh, dear, I don't remember his name. Short fellow, stocky, blondish. Said he was a member of the Board of Merchants."

"Oh, yes. Mallard and company. Some…" he looked at a clipboard. "Presenting at the forensics thing?"

"Yes." Ducky glanced around, ready to be asked to leave.

"I've got four on my list. I'll have to ask for some sort of ID, please."

Ducky produced his passport and NCIS ID. Abby did the same. Not being agents, Abby and Ducky just had a laminated card with the NCIS shield in blue in the background. Tim and Jimmy were both agents, Jimmy having completed the abbreviated FLETC in his spare time. Gibbs had given him a marksmanship test and Vance had passed him. They produced nice leather folders with a badge and ID.

The guard examined all their ID's carefully then said, "Great. In you go. Do enjoy the new cuts and remember that they're not real. Oh. Avoid the pigs in a blanket, they're just downright nasty."

Abby eyed a nearby server's tray. "They look… soggy. And… icky."

"Yeah, they are. Well, I'm sorry, I need you to clear the door. Enjoy."

They moved away without complaint. Abby pointed to a display column in the middle of the room. "There. Come on." She grabbed Tim by one arm and dragged him toward the display.

Jimmy smiled at her enthusiasm. "Shall we?" He bowed slightly to Ducky and waved a hand in the general direction.

Ducky nodded once. "We shall."

They separated, each person going to the area that held their interest. Abby headed to the display to see the new cuts. Ducky wandered over to a clump of older men to listen to stories of their younger days, and tell a couple of his own. Tim saw some sort of machine in a corner and ambled over to see what it was. It turned out to be a laser cutter that could be programmed to cut gems to exact specifications. Jimmy just eased into a small service area where he could people-watch without being in the way. He pulled the accordion door halfway shut.

A server eased up and asked, "Is everything all right?"

"I'm fine. I'm just not interested in any of this, but the other three people in my group are. So I'm just keeping out of the way and an eye on all of them."

The server smiled at Jimmy. "I see. Would you like something to drink? We're not serving any liquor at this time of day, but we've got coffee, nasty hot tea, sweet ice tea, juices, and soda. There's also some snacks, which the organizer calls nibbles; pretentious is what I call it."

Jimmy grinned at the server. "I'd really like a good cup of coffee and some of those finger sandwiches, if they're fresh."

"They are. I made them myself this morning. Avoid that thing on rye. It's chopped corned beef mixed with sauerkraut and cream cheese. Nasty."

Jimmy blinked at the man. "Seriously? What kind of fucked up, psycho culinary nutjob thought that up?"

"Some dumbass thought Reuben and fucked it up. I'll be right back."

He returned in a few minutes with a dinner plate of finger sandwiches and savory pastries. The coffee was in a mug; one sniff told Jimmy that it was strong.

"Thanks. I appreciate it."

"Welcome. I'm gonna be here about another half hour; I got a class. If you need anything before I leave, give me a wave."

The server moved off to carry another tray of snacks around. Jimmy grumbled, "Nibbles? What the actual fuck?" He returned to watching the twenty or so people mill around.

.

Abby took a finger sandwich off a tray, but one bite had her spitting it out into the napkin and looking for some place to dump it. She saw Jimmy's hiding spot and headed for him. "Oh, my God! What is this supposed to be?"

Jimmy eyed the half masticated mess. "That's a pseudo-wannabe Reuben. Here." He took the napkin and dropped it into the trash. "Hide with me for a bit."

"Okay. The display is nice, but the new cut is a pretentious mess. The display is nice. They've got all the cuts ever. Some bright soul has them arranged by the decades they were most popular. It's really interesting. I do like the old Rose cut. But that new cut is just… busy. I don't think it'll take."

Jimmy shrugged, diamonds were not that interesting to him. They were pretty, expensive, and not for him. "Too bad. But… here. Have some of this. It's egg salad and avocado, really good. And there's… um… some sort of pot meat with fancy mayo."

Abby snickered. "That's aioli." She nibbled carefully. "Mmmm, it is good. But I think that pot meat is pâté."

Jimmy frowned at her for a second. "Okay. But isn't that expensive?"

"Yes and no. Goose liver is really expensive, but you can make a very acceptable, cheap substitute with chicken or duck. I think this is chicken, with some bacon for the fat." She took another bite. "And shallots… maybe some rosemary."

Abby nodded her head. "Oh, look. Aren't they cute?"

Jimmy looked then snickered. "I don't think either Ducky nor Tim would appreciate being called cute."

"But look at them. Tim's all tec geeking, and Ducky has someone who really wants to hear his stories."

Jimmy frowned for a moment. "And I don't understand why Jet is always interrupting him. I like his stories. Tim, AJ, and I sit with him and listen for hours."

Abby frowned right back. "One, he gets off on a tangent which delays vital intel. Two, some of his stories are still classified. And three, some are about Gibbs being young and stupid. He gets embarrassed."

Jimmy snickered. "I never thought about it that way."

Abby opened her mouth to say something else, but shouting and gunfire made her squeak instead.

Jimmy pushed her into a corner and ordered, "Stay right there."

She just nodded and shrank into her spot.

Jimmy pulled the accordion door nearly closed, hoping no one noticed, then peeked through the crack.

Tim was covering Ducky; neither one of them looked hurt. Jimmy crouched down and tried to signal Tim. Ducky noticed and patted Tim on the arm. A bit of ASL, and a plan was formed. Ducky eased out from under Tim and wriggled toward the door, with Tim right behind him.

No one noticed any of this, as all the other people were either screaming, crying, or yelling for everyone to shut up. The chaos was complete. It didn't help that each person in the invading team of thieves was yelling different directions from every other.

Tim and Ducky took advantage of the scrambling bodies to make it into the service station.

Tim closed the door behind him. "If we're lucky they won't notice this nook until too late. So… plan?"

Ducky offered, "Lay low until they get whatever they want and go."

Jimmy frowned. "Not really a good plan, frankly. They'll be looking for stragglers."

Abby showed her phone. "I called 911. The dispatcher said to stay hidden. Did I do okay?"

"Yes. I was going to call as soon as we got settled." Tim eyed his phone then turned it to silent. "I don't want it ringing and giving our position away."

Everyone else hurried to reset their own phones.

While they were doing that, the invaders had gotten everyone lined up against the back wall and were shouting demands at them. The only problem was, everyone was yelling something different, just as before, so the confused and panicked people had no idea what was wanted, only that their captors were threatening them with guns and screaming at them.

Tim and Ducky used the confusion to good advantage.

Tim whispered, "Okay. What can we do? And what should we do?"

Ducky replied, "I'm not sure. What do we actually have?"

Abby hissed, "Cleaning supplies. Ammonia… bleach… Turpentine. And some bottles. I can make gas bombs and Molotov cocktails. But we'll have to be really, really careful or we'll hurt the hostages."

Jimmy drew his sidearm and checked it. "I've got an E26R-9-LEGION. Comes with a 15 shot mag standard and three extra mags. One is extended 20 rounds."

Tim blinked. "Juliette Foxtrot Charlie. Talk about firepower." He grinned. "I've got my NCIS issue P-226 MX26 and four extra mags. Ducky?"

Ducky shrugged. "I've only got a Colt Bulldog revolver. Six shots and I'm out. I've got some extra ammo in my pocket, but no reloader, so I'm down for about a minute while I reload." He grimaced in dismay.

"Don't worry about it. Some dumbass will lose his weapon, sooner or later. Just pick it up."

Meanwhile, the invaders had managed to figure out what was wrong. One man, the obvious leader, started issuing orders.

"Okay. Everyone line up along that wall. No screaming, crying, or arguing. I'll shoot anyone who steps out of line. Move it!"

Everyone scurried to obey.

.

All that noise attracted all kinds of attention from outside the room. Some of the servers had managed to escape and tell their stories. Someone called 911 and internal security worked quickly to get everyone out of the building. Since the thieves were concentrating on the one room, it wasn't that hard.

This left the police with one large room with narrow windows occupied by six masked men and some twelve hostages. Some of the people in the room had been close enough to various doors to get out before the invaders managed to block them. Cops gathered them in a coffee shop nearby and started interviewing.

SWAT rolled up in their truck and deployed; orders were not to shoot until they could take out all the group at one time. They tried to call the land line in the room but, since there was no operator, they couldn't get a connection. The Venue Manager had a list of all the people attending the meeting and he was glad to turn it over. The SWAT Leader got someone started on calling all the numbers to try to get contact.

Phones rang and were answered. Other phones rang only to be ignored or declined. A few rang in the ballroom, only to infuriate the invaders; those phones were confiscated and broken.

Tim and Jimmy crowded Abby and Ducky as far back in the nook as they could get. Ducky complained softly, "I'm RED, as you know."

Tim nodded. "We know but you're the smartest of us so… protect the brain."

Abby grumbled, "I'm smart too."

Jimmy muttered, "Yeah, but you can't shoot."

"Jerk."

"I'd say 'bitch' back but it's not PC, now hush."

Abby hushed and went back to making something with dressing cups and carryout containers.

Tim peeked out again, then sighed. "Well, one thing good: all the hostages are against the back wall. Bad thing is… the hostiles are behind them."

Jimmy groaned then snarled, "Damn it. And what the hell do they actually want?"

They found out.

"Where the hell are the rest of the diamonds?"

One brave man hesitantly stepped forward. "There aren't any. We don't bring diamonds to this sort of conference."

"Damn it! There's diamonds. We saw them. There… in that case. There's more here somewhere. Give 'em up."

While the leader, who Jimmy had dubbed Schmo One, was arguing with the merchant, Minion Two was knocking the small lock off the display and stuffing the trays of zirconiums into a bag.

Tim grimaced. It wasn't a good idea to argue with a bunch of thugs like these, but the man was trying to explain something. Something that the thieves didn't want to hear. This was not going to turn out well.

It didn't. Schmo One shot the man, in the leg, but still. All that did was make everyone scream, throw up, or faint. Chaos wasn't helpful.

It also made SWAT change tactics. Now they were determined to bring the group down hard. The commander had asked for a list of all the people assumed to be in the room. It was still a work in progress but he took what he could get. A quick read-through gave him an idea. "Look. Here's some people from NCIS. An ME, his assistant, a squint, and an agent. If we can get in touch with them somehow, maybe we can at least get eyes."

His 2IC made it happen. The IT tech on the team was careful; he activated Tim's phone, but sent a silent text. This got the answer that Tim was not happy that they'd taken that chance. His text setting was soft beep and vibrate, but if his phone had been on a hard surface, the noise would have been enough to give away their location. The officer apologized, then asked if they had eyes or were they hunkered down in place.

Tim's text was simple, "Both."

The next request was for pictures of the scene which Tim took with his camera and sent with the note that the group were demanding diamonds that didn't exist and were getting more and more insistent by the second.

CO Lt. McPherson grumbled, "Well, shit. We're on a short fuse. Those guys are gonna get impatient soon and start killing people. They shot one guy already. I just hope that poor sucker doesn't bleed out before we can get in there."

2IC Sgt. Caplan offered, "Well, those narrow windows don't give a good line of sight, but maybe we could get them all at one time?"

"Good luck with that one. Get with the snipers and ask."

McPherson had Officer/Tech Donaldson ask about arms next. When he saw the inventory he swore, then said, "What the actual fuck? Are they nuts?"

"Don't know." Officer Donaldson shrugged. "Who knows what the feebs are thinking?"

"Yeah. But… um… gas bombs?"

"No idea whatsoever." He thought for a moment then, added, "And I don't want one, either."

Sgt. Caplan came back with the bad news: there was no way for the snipers to get a bead on anyone through those narrow windows. They were special glass and actually distorted the line of sight.

"Well, shit." Lt. McPherson ran a hand over his buzzcut. "Now what?"

"We've got assets… if we can figure out how to use them."

Several text messages left everyone frustrated. There was no way for SWAT to get into the room quietly; all the doors were chained shut from the inside. The only door that wasn't was the glass door that led to the lobby; one of the thieves was stationed there.

Tim sighed, "If I had a silencer I could pick that guy on the lobby door off without too much notice. They're all still busy either demanding diamonds that don't exist or trying to explain that. I'm surprised that they haven't shot someone else yet."

Abby nodded. "I could make a silencer; I've got the license, but I need a lathe and a bunch of other stuff. All that shit about homemade silencers is exactly that… shit."

"I know. And you know what AJ says… wish in one hand, shit in the other; see which one fills up first."

More texting between SWAT and Tim produced the best plan they could manage. There were six men, one on the glass door, two harassing the hostages, one on each of the chained doors and one just standing by with the bag of zirconias. SWAT wished they could get Tim and Jimmy a couple of flash-bangs but that was a definite no-go. Abby had managed a few gas grenades with ammonia and bleach, this was what she was making with the dressing cups and carry-out containers. She had made them fairly weak, on a level with strong mace, and had told SWAT to be prepared to water the floor down as soon as possible.

So they waited until everyone was in position, then Lt. McPherson shouted, "Go! Go! Go!" and a simultaneous attack began. One team for each door, and Tim, Jimmy, and Ducky. Abby stayed back.

Two teams started breaking down the chained doors with cement-filled pipes with handles, called Door Knockers. Another just shot the guard on the glass doors through the glass, then rushed the room. They all were wearing gas masks, as Abby had told them there would be gas.

While all this was going on, Tim and Jimmy were holding their weapons on the room. If any of the thieves tried to shoot any of the hostages, they were dead. Abby threw her gas bombs into the room and clouds of toxic gas billowed around the areas. She had good aim and two bombs fell at the feet of Schmo One, and another actually hit the roaming man in the chest.

The chained doors burst open and SWAT rushed in. They started grabbing people and pushing them toward the door. Most of the men were coughing and tearing, but they ran for the doors obediently.

The men who had been guarding the doors had run into the room the second they were breached.

Abby pointed. "Ducky! That one's gonna shoot that SWAT guy."

Ducky drew his pistol and took aim. The snub nose of the Bulldog made it a short range weapon, but Ducky was accurate up to the longest shot possible. He shot the thief center mass, knocking him down. His head hit the floor, which knocked him out.

Tim and Jimmy were standing right in front of the nook. This kept them out of the line of fire, but allowed them to aid as needed. As the SWAT team was good, it wasn't much. Tim knocked the roaming guard out; he was gagging on the gas, so it was more a mercy than anything else. Jimmy dodged gunfire and gas to make it to the man who'd been shot in the leg. He was in bad shape, unconscious from blood loss, so Jimmy picked him up in a fireman's carry, still holding his sidearm, and carried him out of the gas.

He put the man on a table, which he cleared with a sweep of his hand. "Ducky! Bring my ruck."

But Ducky was already right there, ruck in hand. "Right here."

Ducky took over treatment. "Very well, let's see what we have here." Ducky began his examination by using medical scissors to cut the pants leg out of the way. "Jimmy, we have a through-and-through. Happily, it missed anything vital. Get me two pressure packs and an Ace. We'll just wrap him up for transport."

Jimmy passed Ducky the required supplies, saying, "Here you go. I wish we had an IV set up. I carry a couple in my full ruck, but I only brought about half. I didn't think we'd be in the middle of a damn shootout."

An EMT approached with his gear. "Okay. I'm here. Triage?"

Ducky gave him a quick rundown and finished, "I'd advise putting him in a truck and heading for the hospital. He's stable for now."

The EMT and his partner ran the usual before-transport checks. "Great. Either one of you a physician?"

Ducky smiled. "We both are. Now take our friend and go. Safe travel."

"Thanks. We'll take good care of him."

While they were talking, the EMT's got an IV in one arm and wrapped another bandage around the man's leg.

"Okay. IV… in. Let's go."

They moved their patient to the gurney, took him to the ambulance, and were gone.

A uniform stopped by to say, "I know you know the drill, bein' NCIS an' all. But, don't leave the building until someone's had a word with you." He smiled. "And thanks for the medic, I don't think that man had much longer."

Ducky shook his head. "No thanks needed. I agree with you, I don't believe he had more than five more minutes. I'm sure he'll make it now." He eyed his bloody hands with a grimace. "I need to wash up. Gent's room?"

"Go ahead." The uniform ambled off making notes in his book as he went.

Ducky took a moment to look around. Tim was in the middle of a group of officers who were pelting him with questions. Jimmy had disappeared, he assumed to the restroom to wash up. Abby was sprinkling something on the small spots of fluid left from her bombs and telling a man with a mop and bucket how to clean the mess up safely.

Ducky quickly washed his hands and arms, then dried them. He took a moment just to relax and get himself together. He hated it when civilians got involved in a shitstorm like this. They shouldn't have to deal with it.

Jimmy had already washed his hands and was sitting on the floor. "Ducky, pull up a piece of floor. Sit down for a bit."

"I believe I will." Ducky settled beside Jimmy and leaned his head against the wall. "Goodness me."

"Tired?"

Ducky shrugged.

"Me too. We can just sit here until someone comes looking."

"Someone'll hunt us down in about ten. Bet."

"I'm much too old and wise to take a sucker bet like that one. Pull the other one; it's got bells on."

Jimmy didn't get to reply, as someone knocked on the door then opened it. A man they didn't know stuck his head in and asked, "You Mallard and Palmer?"

Ducky nodded, then got up with a bit of help from Jimmy. "We are. And you are?"

"Detective Nigel Wayne. I just need a few questions answered. And I'll have to relieve you of your sidearms. Sorry."

Ducky handed over his Bulldog without complaint, but Jimmy announced that he wasn't turning over a twelve hundred dollar Glock and over three hundred dollars of mags and ammo without a court order and a receipt.

Detective Wayne just nodded. "Okay. I'll get your papers for you. I do realize that handing over your personal arm is a big imposition. I'll personally guarantee that you'll get it back in perfect shape."

Jimmy just nodded.

Detective Wayne refrained from further comment and led the way to a small room that was obviously an employees' break room. They settled at one of the tables, while both Jimmy and Ducky noticed that Tim was at another table farther down the room. Abby was conspicuously absent.

"Where's Abby?"

"Who?"

"Dr. Abigail Sciuto."

"Oh, her. Smart lady. She's supervising the cleanup of her… whatever the hell you call 'em. Involves vinegar and… something."

Jimmy relaxed. "Okay. She been interviewed yet?"

"Don't think so. We'll get you set up somewhere after you give a statement and surrender your arms. You can wait there until you're all interviewed." Another detective came and took Ducky to another table. "Okay. So… What the actual fuck?"

It took nearly an hour for all four friends to make their statements, most of the hold-up was waiting for the court order and invoice for all their arms. Jimmy wound up handing over his Glock, but not his mags; Tim the same. Ducky had just handed his Bulldog over, but got an invoice just the same. Abby had to write out what she'd used to make her bombs.

After all the t's were crossed and i's dotted, the four headed back to their hotel. On the way they got a text that informed them that the Forensics Conference had been cancelled, as most of the participants had headed for home already.

Abby announced, "I'm taking a shower, then changing my clothes… you guys?"

Ducky nodded. "Shower, clean things, then… food. I'm hungry."

Tim and Jimmy agreed with Abby and Ducky, so they split up for their rooms to shower and change, then meet back up in the bar.

It didn't take long for everyone to clean up, dress, and get to the bar. Tim and Jimmy had dressed in coyote BDU's and desert boots. Tim wore a dark green t-shirt, while Jimmy wore brown. Abby had dressed in Docker cargo pants, with a green tank-top printed with pickles. Ducky was his usual casual, tweedy self.

They met in the entryway to the bar/restaurant and waited for the hostess to seat them, which didn't take long. She smiled and led them to a table for six. "Is this okay? We don't have any tables for four empty, and I didn't want you to wait."

Ducky nodded. "It's fine." A bus boy came to remove the unneeded chairs.

They settled at their table with sighs of relief. They were all winding down from the adrenaline rush of the day and were definitely hungry. They all agreed that they'd stick to beer and have no more than one before the food came.

When the waitress came over, Abby ordered a Negra-Modello, a dark Mexican beer. Ducky, Tim, and Jimmy ordered Guinness. Sylvia handed menus around and announced, "Okay. Drinks right up."

The menu was typical bar food, but the place had four and a half stars on GoodEats. Abby eyed the menu for a moment then said, "I hate this. I want some of everything and… well, I'll be sick if I order what I want."

Tim shrugged. "Okay. I want sliders, wings, and potato skins."

Jimmy put his menu down, saying, "Yeah, but crab sliders, fried pickles, and onion rings for me."

Ducky added, "I would love chicken yakitori, artichoke dip, and mini-meatballs with ranch sauce."

Abby scribbled on a napkin, eyed it for a moment then said, "Great. We'll just order the slider plate, it has burgers, crab salad and b-b-q chicken, fried pickles, potato skins, wings, yakitori, dip, meatballs and… they don't have onion rings?" Abby eyed Jimmy.

"I didn't say they were on the menu, just that I want some. I'll take…" He thought for a moment then shrugged. "I'll just eat what's on your list. We've ordered plenty. If not, we can always order more."

So, when the server returned Ducky ordered. She eyed him for a moment then said, "I know I shouldn't ask… but, are you sure?"

Jimmy smirked at her. "Tim and I run at least four miles a day. Besides, getting shot at makes me hungry."

The server started to say something, shut her mouth, opened it again, then managed, "Holy shit!" She flushed then scurried away to drop their order.

She came back in about fifteen minutes with the food and the information that the hotel had comped everything from now until the time they left.

Jimmy blinked, started to say something, then just thanked her; Tim, Ducky, and Abby followed suit.

Abby nibbled at a potato skin. "Amazing what you can do with a potato skin. I wonder what they do with the inside. Seems a shame to waste it."

The bartender, who'd brought out a tray of drinks to help out, overheard and answered. "We're very responsible about foods. The insides go into the mashed potatoes."

Tim grinned. "Sounds good. I wish you had fried potato cakes. AJ makes the best."

"What's that?" Mac took his ticket pad out of his pocket. "Recipe? Please?"

"Sure. Mashed potatoes, hashbrowns, eggs, bit of flour, salt, and pepper. Tony says that giving regular proportions isn't a good idea as it depends on the water content. But for one cup of mash, half a cup of hashbrowns, an egg, half teaspoon of salt, pepper to taste, then add flour until it makes a soft dough. I add a bit of Worcestershire sauce, Tabasco sauce, and finely chopped chives. Fry in butter until brown, and serve with sour cream and more chives. If you make them about the size of a silver dollar they're finger food."

"Wow! Sounds good. Thanks."

"Welcome. Beer around."

"Right on it."

They continued to snack and drink.

They discussed the day, the way SWAT had behaved, the easy way the detectives had debriefed them.

Tim nodded to Jimmy. "Some of our people could learn a thing or two. I swear, Franklin is so ham-handed that he pisses witnesses off so bad they quit cooperating."

Jimmy agreed. "Yeah, I had one guy actually tell me that, if he wasn't gone in five minutes, I'd need another body bag. Jet was livid."

Ducky shook his head. "Jet may irritate everyone in the agency at one time or another, but he's never lost a witness through stupidity."

They agreed that the agent in question should never be allowed anywhere near a debrief or deposition, ever.

They were discussing the wisdom of more beers when the bartender came over with a plate. "Hey. The chef tried that recipe. Taste those and see what you think."

Everyone took a pancake. Abby hummed her appreciation. "Oh, very good."

Jimmy and Tim agreed with their mouths full. Ducky took exception to this and scolded, "Mouths shut. The Barman will think you're savages. However, they are particularly good… or I'm pished."

The bartender looked puzzled. "Excuse me?"

Abby giggled. "Ducky is Scottish. Pished is Scottish for drunk. And I am."

Tim and Jimmy agreed that they were cut off for the evening. Tim announced, "We'll sit here for a bit then head up to bed. We'll have to make connections back to DC. Um… later."

They visited for about a half hour then got up to head up to bed.

Tim yawned then said, "I wonder how AJ and the guys are?"

Jimmy snorted rudely. "Probably sitting around on their asses, waiting for something to break. Bed."

They poured themselves into the elevator and headed up to bed.

WOMBAT: Waste Of Money, Brains And Time

.

Please do not ask me for the SEAL mission story. I haven't written it yet, it's the next story. Constant requests for stories really put me off stride.

I made up the convention center so that I could arrange it to suit the story.

The carver is just like many men I've dealt with over the years. I like my steak, prime rib, and roast mooing; have since I was about 8. I can't count the number of servers who've actually told me I wouldn't like it. I've actually had to send steaks back.

The President of a bridge club is often referred to as The Elder Statesman. Or was in my bridge days.

A sugar shell is the spoon that is used to spoon sugar into your cup; it is not used to stir the cup.

Eton Mess - crumbled meringues, sugared strawberries, and whipped cream

Berry Trifle - layered Strawberries, liquor soaked pound cake, blue berries, liquor soaked pound cake, raspberries, whipped cream

Individual Steamed Lemon Pudding with treacle sauce - self explanatory

Sticky Toffee pudding with caramel sauce - self explanatory

Spotted Dick - a pudding made of suet, dried fruit, sugar, and flour

Delta Mike Foxtrot - Dumb Mother Fucker. (dumbfuckitis)

UFO - Utterly Fucked Over (I rather like "unidentifiable fucked-up object" myself. ;D - Jake)

Sierra Sierra - shitstorm


End file.
